


The Barracks: Part 2

by doberman



Series: The Barracks [2]
Category: Call of Duty (Video Games), Call of Duty: Modern Warfare
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Injury, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protectiveness, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Wet Dream, roach is british, this is a sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 11:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25848520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doberman/pseuds/doberman
Summary: This is a sequel to the first fic. The Barracks is a military-inspired inn based within Hereford, England, where good friends Soap and Ghost work. Ghost is beginning to feel out of place in the civvie world and is struggling to keep occupied when a newbie is hired who ends up providing him with a much needed distraction. Problem is, Ghost's always been better at pushing people away.Note: these portrayals are based on mw 2019's versions.
Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley/Gary "Roach" Sanderson
Series: The Barracks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875625
Comments: 122
Kudos: 129





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> if you haven't read the first fic, I highly suggest taking a look since a lot of general plot info / context can be found there. otherwise, hope you enjoy! very excited to put this out there.

“Shit.” Simon tucked his head under his pillow, groaning at the absence of his mask. His head _ached_ , a pounding sensation from deep within his skull. He peeked out from his cover, noting that the imprint of the woman he’d been with the night before was still there in the bedding – as he’d told her to fuck off once things had slowed. Gradually, the Lieutenant recalled what’d happened. He’d gone out for drinks, managed to pull some random chick and decided he needed more. Simon wasn’t an outgoing bloke, wasn’t interested in relationships or even socializing. But a man had needs, which became more urgent the lower his mood slipped. It never helped, however. Never made him feel any better. In fact, he was acutely aware of how awful he felt.

“You plannin’ on comin’ in t’day?” Soap’s voice could be heard from the doorway, his face contorting at the smell he’s met with.

“I ever miss a day?” Simon shot back with a grunt.

“Don’t think I can allow you near people’s orders – guilt-free, if I’m bein’ honest. Not in this state.”

“Fuck off, mate, I’m in tip-top shape. Just you wait.”

“Believe it when I see it,” the Scot turned to resume his morning routine, pausing half-way down the hall. “Open a bloody window, it stinks in there!”

“Wanker…” Simon growled under his pillow.

“What?” Soap shouted back, challenging.

“I called you a wanker!” At least he was honest.

Soap didn’t respond, encouraging Simon to get a move on. The Scot knew better than to feed the aggressive side of Simon Riley. He was prone to these episodes of meltdown, though they weren’t dramatic or carried out in search of help – it was just Simon and his self-destructive nature. Once he got the mask on he’d be alright. Too much time to think, that was all. Soon he’d be back in the field with his team. That, and admittedly it’d been getting more difficult to spend time around Soap and Price. Now they were a couple, which Simon was in full support of, it meant he was regularly reminded of how lonely and unhealthy his way of life was. Soap was merely a distraction from it, another façade – just like his mask, to convince himself he had some small semblance of composure in his life.

“Riley, let’s _go_!” Soap called out from his room.

This prompted the Lieutenant to finally rise from his half-slumber. Painkillers, he thought to himself. A hunt was launched for the tablets, which were located in the cabinet above the kitchen sink. He gulped them down, lowering his mouth to the tap in favour of desperately savouring the glorious taste of water. He rested there for a couple of minutes, eyes threatening to lull him into sleep once more until he heard the tap begin to run, followed by Soap slathering a handful of cold water across Simon’s face. He spluttered at first, stumbling back away from his attacker. Blinking through the cold, Simon scowled. “What the fuck, MacTavish?”

The look on his friend’s face was far from amused, however. “You either pull yourself t’gether, mate, or you tell me what’s up with you.”

“Nothing’s _up_ ,” Simon argued.

“Then what’s all this about? Bein’ late for work, the random folks you keep bringin’ home, gettin’ pissed where you can.”

“Nothing. Just _enjoying_ myself,” Simon retorted bitterly. “You ‘n’ Price get to.”

“I’m just worried about you, mate,” Soap tried to explain. “You’re not talking t’ me. If something’s wrong I can _listen_. I can –”

“You can’t do shit, mate,” Simon stated. “Genuinely. This is just how it is.”

“Are you – having those dreams again?”

“ _Soap_ ,” he warned.

“I want t’ be _there_ for you, Simon. That’s _it_. You can _trust_ me.”

“Not interested in havin’ this conversation.” A hand was raised to wipe away the remaining droplets on his face, then, he turned and made his way towards the shower.

“Whether you do or don’t, _I_ give a shit about what happens t’ you.”

“Great. Cheers, Soap. I’ll bear that in mind.” The shower door was shut behind him and he sucked in a deep breath. “Sober up, Sunshine. There’s shit t’ do.”

* * *

The morning started off slow, a few drifters coming into The Barracks here and there for an early coffee or tea. A couple of tourists exploring Hereford ate their breakfast at the tables, having stayed the night upstairs. By lunch time, things had started to pick up a little more – though it seemed to merely be a quiet day. They happened, from time to time. Ghost didn’t mind, he kept himself mostly hidden behind the bar, staving off his hangover with meds and water where he could. He knew Soap had mentioned their little argument to Price already, seeing as the bloke came in as soon as he could.

“I’ll ‘ave a tea, mate,” Price requested.

“Bit early for a break,” Ghost observed as he began heating the water.

“Forgot to ‘ave one at home,” the Sergeant shrugged. “Got t’ start the morning right, eh?”

Ghost eyed Price for a few moments and then leaned closer, resting his crossed arms on the bar in front of him. “I know Soap asked you t’ come here.”

“He didn’t,” Price said honestly. “He mentioned it, but I’m here of my own free will.”

“Why?”

“Because I like it here,” Price attempted to humour him, but when it was clear Ghost was serious he shrugged. “You keepin’ yourself t’gether, lad?”

“Just fine,” Ghost hummed, shifting his gaze as he poured the hot water into a mug, chucking a tea bag in along with it.

“And you’ll let one of us know if you’re not?”

“Sure.”

There was a silence between them, a mutual understanding that this is all a lie but that there was nothing Price nor Soap could do about it. Sighing, Price carefully placed a palm on Ghost’s shoulder. “Word of advice, Simon. Don’t push away the ones that care about you.”

“Not pushing him away,” Ghost disagreed. “He’s…” Hands rose, as if to stress an unspoken point, though he was swift to decide against it – exhaling a heavy sigh instead. “Never mind. Fine, Price. I hear what you’re saying. Don’t expect me t’ thank you.”

Price arched a brow, giving him a firm nudge. He sat back on his stool, nodding. A warm smile was given. “When you headed back?”

“When the next mission comes in. Whenever they call for me.”

“Like a dog to a whistle,” Price smirked.

Ghost’s eyes scanned the other’s officer outfit. “One to talk, Price.”

The Sergeant chuckled. “I suppose I am.” Throughout their conversation, he’d been sipping at his tea until one mouthful was left. He chose to discard it, pushing the mug forwards for collection. He reached to retrieve his wallet, to which Ghost shook his head.

“You’re alright, mate. ‘s on the house.”

Price raised his brows. “No, come on, it’s only a couple of quid –”

“Buy yourself a fortune cookie or some shit,” Ghost joked. “‘s fine, mate.”

Price sighed. “Nice one. Cheers, lad. S’pose I’m off. Do me a favour and be good t’ Soap, yeah? He only wants the best f’ you. But most importantly,” Price met his gaze, stern, “be good to yourself.”

“Have a good day, Price,” Ghost gave a firm nod, taking the mug in hand. He turned away from the Sergeant and placed it in the sink for collection. Ghost paused, gloved hands grasping at the surface’s edge. He felt ill, exhausted. He needed to do something other than… just serving up drinks. In his peripheral, Soap appeared – conveniently. “You just missed your boyfriend.”

The Scot glanced at him. “Price stopped by?”

“Yeh, had a few choice words f’ me. You have anything t’ do with that?”

“I didn’t tell him to come here, if that’s what you’re implying.”

It was something he already knew, but he couldn’t help bringing it up again. “I’m gonna take my lunch break shortly,” Ghost informed. A brisk decision, but one he chose to stick with, nevertheless.

Soap eyed him quizzically – as though there was meant to be a coded message somewhere in that statement. “Alright…”

It was horrible, the tension between them and truthfully quite unnecessary. But Ghost could only find it in himself to push rather than pull right now.

“I need to talk t’ you about somethin’ when you get back,” Soap added, as Ghost began preparing for his lunch.

“Soap…” Ghost grunted.

“Not about _this_ ,” Soap reassured. “The Barracks are hiring. Summer’s coming up and they’re expecting it t’ be packed soon.”

“What d’ you mean they’re hiring?”

“Well… _have_ hired. Somebody’s comin’ in for training t’morrow – I’ll need you t’ help out.”

“Fucking – _tomorrow_?” Ghost asked, agitated by the late information.

“Aye. I know it’s very soon, but you’ve only gotta show ‘em what t’ do. How things work, etcetera, etcetera. No biggie. Besides, I think it could be good for you t’ have somethin’ to focus on.”

“What’s that supposed t’ mean?”

“You _know_ ,” Soap raised his brows. To help the other get back on track, maybe. “Nothing you can’t handle, anyway. I’ll brief you more back at the apartment.”

“Bollocks,” Ghost growled. “Like I need someone else t’ trip over.” Ignoring the hurt on Soap’s face, Ghost made his way towards the exit. His gaze settled on Soap’s bike, which he’d come to work on the back of because Soap refused to let him drive with a hangover – understandable, but annoying. That meant he’d have to walk around for an hour. Therefore, he ended up finding a bench near the inn and seated himself on it.

His mask was pulled up and over his nose, a box tugged from his pocket and a cigarette drawn from it. He placed it between his lips as he reached for his lighter. It sizzled as he lit it, taking a deep puff. “Fucking _newbie_ ,” he seethed. He didn’t want somebody _new_ joining them. Things were difficult enough with Soap currently. He hadn’t even fully let either the Scot or Price in on his past. They knew bits and pieces, random chunks he felt he could talk about. They knew his family was dead – but the details were _vastly_ spared. Knew he'd been taken hostage, tortured and brainwashed – again, with the details vastly spared. Knew vaguely about his various exposures to abuse… But nobody except Simon himself would know the _entire_ truth.

Whether the newbie would understand that or not didn’t matter to him, however, it always went smoother when people left him alone to _get on_. Ghost didn’t utter a word for the next hour, two cigarettes were dragged to their end – their remains scattered beneath his right boot. His watch read that his break was over. _Already_? He thought. Needless to say, the rest of the day would be rough.

* * *

“Why’a they bringin’ in the help now? Not like numbers are gonna fucking skyrocket,” Simon asked, form tense. They were back at their apartment.

“S’pose they wanna be prepared. I didn’t ask – not my choice and it’s not yours either,” Soap replied firmly, flicking through the channels on the tv.

“We haven’t had new staff for ages, we’ve been just fine.”

“Well maybe they wanna change that.”

“Bullshit is what it is,” Simon stated bluntly.

“SAS do the same, do they not? Bringin’ in new people.”

“Yeh but those blokes know better than t’ stick their nose in your business.”

“How d’ you know this guy’s _not_ gonna be like that? He might respect your privacy,” Soap reasoned.

“No civvie respects my privacy, Soap. They’re fucking civvies, they don’t get it.”

“No doubt you’ll put him in his place if he asks.”

“Fuckin’ right. What reason would I ‘ave t’ feel bad about that?”

“Just don’t put ‘im off his first day, mate. You need this job to keep busy, remember? I won’t be fighting for you if you’re gonna make him bloody cry.”

“Won’t be my fault if ‘e can’t handle me.” Simon paused, glaring at the floorboards beneath his feet. “You met 'im yet?”

“No.”

“Know anything about 'im?”

“He’s a bloke and his name’s Gary.”

Simon scoffed. “Gary. Fucking ridiculous. Gary what?”

“Sanderson.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!

The following day, Ghost and Soap pulled into the inn’s carpark on their bikes to find a single car parked there. _A car bloke, great_ , he thought sarcastically. “He’s bloody _early_ ,” Ghost noted. “Not supposed t’ be ‘ere for another twenty minutes.”

“Maybe he’s just keen,” Soap countered.

“Why?” Ghost grunted. “He’s only servin’ drinks ‘n’ food t’ people.”

“Good impressions, Ghost. Go a _long_ way.”

“Right.”

They took their time securing their bikes and helmets before they headed inside, the doors having been unlocked by their manager. Upon entering, Ghost picked out the unfamiliar face, Gary Sanderson. He was maybe four or five inches shorter than the Lieutenant, with short brown hair and rich green eyes. He looked younger than Simon, younger than _Soap_ in fact. A youthful face with vague stubble, like Soap had said – keen to impress, as he turned and spotted them incoming.

“Simon, John,” Gary greeted with an undeniably nervous smile. Ghost observed how the guy didn’t do a double take at his skull mask. “I’m Gary, it’s great to meet you.”

“You call me Ghost,” the Lieutenant stated bluntly, arms crossing over his chest as he scrutinized the other.

Gary appeared to stutter, pausing to regain himself. “Oh, uh, right! They mentioned I’d need to figure out a nickname –”

“That’s what you call me in _and_ outta work,” Ghost specified. “Got it?”

Gary blinked. “Right… sorry, no Simon then?”

“No Simon.”

Sanderson appeared to gulp, nodding his acknowledgement.

“Go easy on ‘im, mate. First day ‘n’ all,” Soap gave Ghost a harsh nudge, hoping to knock the behaviour out of him. “Nice t’ meet you, Gary – I’m John, or Soap if y’ like.”

“Nice to meet you, Soap,” Gary replied, still wary of Ghost’s presence. He would find a way around it, he’d put up with shit from all kinds of people. _Simon_ was likely just another to add to the pile. He wouldn’t let it put him off. “And you, _Ghost_.”

“Less chatter. We’ve got shit t’ do,” Ghost said, brushing past Gary on his way to the bar.

“Don’t mind him,” Soap muttered. “He’s a moody bugger, you’ll get used to it.”

“Have you known each other for long?” Gary inquired. He wondered whether Soap was in the same boat as him once, randomly paired up with the guy.

“Aye, bloody ages mate. He’ll warm up to ya eventually.”

“Ah,” he’d see about that. Maybe Ghost was having a bad day – perfectly plausible. Of course, it had to be his _first_ day. Regardless, Gary wasn’t there for _him_. “No worries, I’m happy to be here.”

“Where you from, Gary?”

“Originally, Scotland – funnily enough. But I’ve been… around a bunch of places.” Hence why his accent seemed to vary.

“Aye, Scotland eh?” Soap raised his brows. “Nice. Your accent’s _very_ mild though, I imagine you didn’t live there f’ long?”

“Yeah, like I said, I’ve moved around a lot so it all seemed t’ blur,” Gary chuckled with a shrug.

Ghost scoffed nearby, clearly irritated that they were stood talking while he was setting things up.

“Where do I start?” Gary asked, his tone wavering vaguely. He didn’t want to upset anyone – at least anymore than he had already appeared to have.

Soap checked his watch. “Well, we’re not open for another thirty minutes, and of course you needn’t feel any pressure t’day, Gary, since it’s training so you just listen, learn and you’ll be good as gold. I’m gonna hand you over t’ Ghost for a bit, have ‘im show you the machines – test you a little bit afterwards… then I’ll take over for a bit and show you about the food ‘n’ tables and what have you. Sound good?”

Hand you over to Ghost… Gary gave a smile and a nod but he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea. Then again, he was no cupcake. He wouldn’t take Ghost’s shit if it went on longer than necessary. “Sounds _great_.”

Soap smirked. “I like this guy.” It was meant for Ghost but when he was ignored Soap merely nodded towards the Lieutenant. “Good luck, mate. I’ll catch up with ya later.” With that, the Scot made his way over to the tables where he began setting out napkins and cutlery.

Gary spared a moment to glance over at his trainer. Couldn’t help but wonder what the mask was about. What did the guy look like underneath it? It looked cool, intimidating and freaky but pretty badass. Maybe it was just for the military theme? Approaching the bar, Gary clasped his hands together. “Is there anything I need to do before I serve the customer?”

Ghost didn’t meet his gaze. “Wash your hands. Or don’t. Doesn’t bother me.”

This was going to be rougher than expected. “Alright… anything else?”

“No. Long as you’ve got the correct clothes on and your name badge.”

Gary glanced at the badge he wore, which currently only said FNG on it. “Great. So, what should I be looking at first?”

“Coffee ‘n’ tea.”

“Oh, isn’t that… pretty average to make?”

“Yeah? You think so? Go on ‘en, have a go mate,” Ghost said impatiently.

Gary’s lips tightened. “I didn’t mean to suggest it was easy. I just – didn’t know if you do it by hand or…”

“Machines, mate. Fucking machines, like any other fucking place.”

Sanderson looked at the other, confused, but bottled it up. “Okay,” he said through his teeth. “What do I need to do?”

Ghost absentmindedly began showing him step by step what to do with the coffee maker, and then stepped back for Gary to have a go. However, half-way through, Ghost snapped. “What’a you doin’? The fuck is that? It’s all wrong, fella. All fucking wrong. I mean – you’d think your smartarse would recognize that but apparently _not_.”

Soap was out of hearing range and practically out of sight during the confrontation, which Gary found himself pinned by. He wanted the job, needed the money and he thought he’d enjoy the atmosphere – being someone who aspired to join the military soon. But this was a bit much. “What’s your problem?” Gary threw back. “All I want to do is get the job done. You’ve only _just_ met me – how can you already hate me?”

“Because Mr _How-Hard-Can-It-Be-To-Make-A-Coffee_ just fucked one up!”

“Then show me again so I can get it right!” He didn’t know where the outburst came from, though it remained through gritted teeth to avoid making a scene. Ghost’s death glare was enough, but Gary met it with his own frustration.

Several moments passed, little space between them as Ghost analysed the other bloke’s expression. Fearless, the masked man didn’t step back and instead muttered a few curse words before beginning the process of making a coffee again. “Fucking _watch_ this time.”

No wonder his coffees looked good, he likely put all his bitter soul into making them. Nevertheless, Gary concentrated hard on the process, taking in every detail and once Ghost had finished, he started. This time, it went better – not perfect, but he was close, and it was obvious Ghost struggled to find something to criticize.

“That’s alright. But _alright_ doesn’t get served here. So sharpen your shit, yeh?”

Gary side-eyed Ghost. “So it wasn’t _completely_ wrong this time?” There was hope in his voice, anticipation for at least one positive moment to share with the other.

“Be quiet ‘n’ keep trying.”

“I’ll take it,” Gary whispered, barely loud enough for Ghost to hear it though he got no response. For a little while longer he kept the coffees coming until Ghost finally nodded.

“Next area,” he turned to face the drink taps, lifting a gloved finger to tap at the names on each tap. “These’a your fizzy drinks, these’a your popular beers and this one’s just f’ water. Grab a glass.”

Gary jerked at the request, looking around for the clean glasses.

“ _There_ , you tosser,” Ghost spat, nodding at the shelf under the bar.

“Got it,” Gary replied, shaking off the harshness as he retrieved a glass and placed it on the bar.

Ghost picked it up and placed it under a tap. “This lever here? You wanna pull it _up_. Make sure you don’t overfill shit, we don’t ‘ave money comin’ out of our ears.”

“Right, no overfilling.”

“Have a go.”

Gary stepped forward, lifting the tap as he held the glass in place. He filled it _just_ below the top and switched the tap off. “How’s that?”

“Fine. Now drink every last drop.”

The younger stared at him, brows contorted. Was he serious? It was only water, but he couldn’t read any of the guy’s expressions – facially, verbally or physically. “You’re… joking?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking joking,” Ghost hissed, shaking his head as he turned to the tea. “Tea’s handmade, different varieties, just read the packet of what they ask for and it’ll tell ya how long t’ brew it. Hot water’s done here –” He gestured to the nearby machine. “You just pull this down, milk’s over here – ” He pointed to the small fridge under the sink counter. “We’ve got different kinds, if we don’t have what they want then offer ‘em somethin’ else. People can be fucking picky, don’t tie yourself in knots about it.”

“Okay,” Gary acknowledged. “Are these… just pull to open doors?” He nodded to the fridges containing the large variety of other drinks they had.

“Yeh, bottle openers are over there on the back counter – _don’t_ lose any of ‘em.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ghost shot him a glance, disapproving of the title, then continued. “Various alcoholic shit on the back wall here, that’s up t’ you to remember where each thing is. Different glasses f’ different shit, don’t go pouring wine into a beer glass – the women will think you’re a fuckin’ animal.”

“That’d be a first,” Gary added with a shrug, hoping to lift the mood.

“You’re kidding,” Ghost said sarcastically. “Would’a thought you were a fuckin’ blast.”

“Figured you have to make perfect coffees to be that guy.”

“Definitely,” Ghost confirmed.

“All makes sense then.” It was almost undetectable but Gary could hear the huff through Ghost’s nose. Whether it was amusement or not was difficult to tell, but he felt he was finally making progress.

“That’s about it f’ now, you’re mostly watchin’ me t’day – tomorrow’s when you pull your finger out and impress me.”

“Haven’t done that already?”

Ghost glanced at him – eyes barely able to be made out from the darkness of his mask but Gary swore he could sense humour from the other. Maybe Soap was right, maybe it’d take time for Ghost to warm up to him. He’d better not push his luck.

“Gotcha. I’ll do my best, Ghost.”

“Fucking right.” He checked his watch. “Inn’s opening soon. Morning drinks – alcohol ‘ent served ‘til around one. Usually coffees ‘n’ teas, especially f’ those who stayed overnight. Soft drinks can also be served.”

“You’re… really good at this,” Gary pointed out. “I mean – you know your shit.”

“I don’t half-arse things.”

“I see that. Thanks for taking the time to teach me.”

Ghost paused, as though the words had caught him off-guard. “All part of the job,” he brushed off. “You’ve still got a long fuckin’ way t’ go.”

“Yeah well, once I know what I’m doing, I don’t half arse-things, either.”

“Believe it when I see it. Don’t get comfortable. Service starts soon. You’re with me ‘til lunch, then I’ll send you over t’ Soap.”

“You guys alternate?”

“No, I’m just sendin’ you over there to stretch your legs.”

Gary rolled his eyes. “Ha-ha, okay funny guy.”

The air immediately grew tense, Ghost’s form locking up. He wasn’t comfortable with the buddy-buddy attitude. Didn’t care to get to know this bloke, wasn’t looking for any friends. “You always this chatty?” He hoped it’d bring Gary down a peg or two.

It worked, because Gary uncomfortably avoided Ghost’s gaze. “I – uh… not a huge fan of silence.”

“Well I am. So keep that in mind.”

“Right. Sorry.” What was this guy’s deal? Gary hadn’t met anyone quite like him. Sure, he’d met moody blokes, men who thought they were the alpha of everything and anything they laid their eyes on. Ghost? There was something more to him, few chose to walk around with a skull mask on their face. _What was his story?_ What had he been through? Instead of feeling intimidated, Gary found himself feeling drawn in – fascinated by the other. Where did this hostility come from? Was he _really_ just a dick? Maybe Soap would have light to shed.

* * *

The first half of his day seemed to go well. Better than he’d expected. It turned out that Ghost and Gary worked well behind the bar together, well enough that even Ghost noticed it – prompting him to send Gary over to Soap sooner than he’d previously said. The Lieutenant had been hoping Sanderson would mess up so he could’ve had him fired on the spot. Was hoping he wouldn’t get along with him, that personalities would clash and it’d all go tits up. But none of that happened, no matter how hard he tried – Gary was _persistent_. Flexible, even, adapting himself to every criticism and stepping miles outside of Ghost’s expectations again and again. There was banter, for the briefest of seconds… There was no way Gary could work with him after this. No way he could risk any kind of bond… any kind of trust.

“How’d you get on?” Soap questioned, prepping a table for a customer.

“Yeah… that was interesting. I’m getting there.”

“He didn’t put you off, did he?”

“Who? Ghost?” Gary tried his best to act like he wasn’t planning on badmouthing his co-worker. “ _No_. Hardly. I mean – maybe a little at first.”

“Uh-oh, not gonna phone in sick tomorrow, eh?”

“No, Soap. Of course not. I’m all in on this.”

“Glad t’ hear it!” Soap said, relieved. “Been a while since we’ve had t’ work with somebody other than… well, ourselves. Like I said, he’ll warm up t’ you.”

“Is he… always like this? Just so I know for the future…”

“No. Not always. I’m not one to pass my mate’s shit around, but he’s dealing with some things. Serious things, Gary. You’re best givin’ him space and leavin’ him to come around.”

_Serious things_ , Gary thought. Now his curiosity was at an all time high. _Don’t be an arsehole, Gary. Guy’s got issues._ Maybe he could help with them? Take some of the weight? He hated the idea of people suffering alone… although he had Soap. Despite the two seeming to be in disagreement over something. _Please don’t let it always be like this_.

Soap snapped him out of his thoughts. “You ready to see how the tables work?”

“Oh, yeah sure.”

“Good. First, you want to ensure every single one looks like this…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should say that I see Simon and Ghost as two different people. Simon is the guy beneath the mask and Ghost is a persona he puts on, because quite frankly Simon has next to no composure after everything he's been through.

The day had ended on a positive note. Nothing went wrong and everyone kept their cool, just about. Ghost had seemed exhausted but brushed it off – wasting no time in making his way to his bike. Soap had praised Gary for a job well done, stating they’d see him again tomorrow.

On the way home, Soap stayed behind Simon’s bike and maintained a close eye on him – knowing how life-threatening lack of attention could be. Upon arriving back at the apartment, he noticed the other was avoiding him.

“You not gonna talk t’ me for the rest of the night then?” Soap asked, opening the door with his keys.

“Don’t have the energy f’ this,” Simon said bluntly.

“You’re really giving me shit because I said I care about you?”

“No, Soap. It’s not – that’s not fucking why.”

“Then what _is_ the reason?”

“I don’t –” Simon took a deep breath, rubbing at his eyes – his visor flicked up. “I can’t explain it.”

“What d’ you mean you can’t –”

“I don’t fucking _know_!” Simon barked back, taking a moment to calm himself. “I’m only good at pushing people away. You should _know_ that by now.” His voice was muffled by his helmet, which he had yet to take off. His avoidance of such likely being due to the lack of his mask, which was stuffed in his jacket.

“Why are you trying t’ push me away?”

“There’s no logic to it, mate. It just… _happens_. People wanna help me and I stop 'em. Because I don’t _wanna_ be helped. Who fucking knows.”

“You need to understand that I’m not just gonna… sit back and let you self-destruct, Simon.”

Simon watched him for a moment and then pushed on into the corridor of their home. “You wouldn’t be able to stop me.”

“You don’t talk t’ me. You don’t _tell_ me what’s troubling you – I _ask_ and you _won’t_ tell me.”

“You don’t wanna fucking _know_ , Soap. I know that better than you do. If I _told_ you… **_no_**. _I_ don’t want you t’ know.”

“I’m not gonna force you, Simon. I only want good things for you, mate.”

“Good things don’t happen t’ me.”

“Stop it,” Soap warned. “The world isn’t _against_ you, Riley. I _know_ your past troubles you…”

“Soap.”

“ ** _No_** ,” the Scot bit back. “If _you_ won’t acknowledge it, then I will. I know your past troubles you, but you don’t have to let it ruin your future. You can’t let it _overtake_ you like this.” There was a pause as Soap took a step closer. “Take your helmet off.” He could see Simon starting to tense up, hands shaking and fingers occasionally twitching. He was bordering on an episode, which Soap refused to leave him in the midst of. “Take your helmet off,” Soap repeated when Simon made no move to. Eventually, however, he did. Trembling palms removed it, throwing it aside onto the sofa. A finger was pointed at Simon’s chest. “ _Stop_ being an arsehole. I am _here_ , and I care about what _happens_ t’ you. Talk t’ me. Even if it’s just t’ tell me you’re not doing well. But don’t drag me around like shite on your boot.”

Simon’s gaze was growing emptier by the minute, until Soap’s hand wrapped around his wrist – grounding him. “I’m not doing well,” he uttered.

“I know,” Soap stated, drawing the man into an embrace as he patted him firmly on the back. “Thank you for telling me.” After a few moments, Soap stepped back and nodded reassuringly. “And no matter how hard you try ‘n’ push me away, I’m never goin’ anywhere.”

The Lieutenant averted his gaze to the nearest wall. “Tosser.”

“Don’t _ever_ think for one second you’re alone, Simon.” One final pat on the shoulder and Soap started towards his room. “I’ll be cookin’ food shortly, have a shower and relax.”

Simon stood, unmoving as he watched Soap disappear into his own room. He couldn’t quite process what just happened, so he didn’t. It was placed to the back of his mind as he entered his own room, stripping off on autopilot. He laid down on his bed, remaining uncovered as he savoured the chill in his room nipping at his thighs. The hollow emptiness remained; his mind blank but his heart metaphorically oozing indignation. Not because of Soap, but _generally_. Pent up fury and resentment that had festered for so long it was now untouchable, a permanent cloud hanging over him.

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, prompting him to fade into a light sleep. Soap could wake him for dinner later, he wasn’t going to sit and allow himself to stew.

* * *

“Look who it is,” Ghost greeted from behind the bar as Price approached.

“How’a things, Simon?” Price arched a brow at the other, referring to their last conversation.

“Yeh, fine mate. _Peachy_.”

“Good.” A warm smile was given, Price’s trademark expression. “Is Soap around? I’m afraid I promised I’d take him out f’ lunch.”

“I was told,” Ghost said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I want ‘im back by the end of his break, otherwise you’re fucked.” At first, the Lieutenant had put up a fight about being left alone with their newest recruit, but he’d reflected upon it and decided to go along with it. Soap was right, there was an element of taking the reins that he found himself lacking – in civvie life. He felt slightly more open to the idea of giving himself something to focus on.

“Understood,” Price smirked, playing along.

“Hey Ghost, do I need to – oh, I’m not interrupting am I?” Gary stopped himself, biting his lip as he assessed the two men in front of him.

“This the new recruit Soap mentioned?” Price asked.

“Yeh, that’s him.” Ghost’s head turned, giving the newbie a once-over. “This is Soap’s partner, Price,” he informed Gary.

“Oh! Soap’s talked about you a tonne,” Gary told him. “Name’s Gary. Nice to meet you, Price.”

The Sergeant gave him a smile and a nod. “You too, lad. Hope _Ghost_ here isn’t giving you problems.”

“Fuck off, I’m _delightful_ company,” Ghost argued, causing Gary to chuckle which seemed to surprise the masked man, judging by the way he eyed him.

“Uh, I should be getting back to work. It was nice meeting you,” Gary gave a wave and then tucked himself away into the corner, head down until Ghost was free to answer his query.

“Hey!” Soap piped up as he rounded the corner. He brought Price into an affectionate kiss, which the Sergeant eagerly reciprocated.

“Christ,” Ghost commented. “Isn’t that something.”

Soap ignored the comment and smiled. “Where are we going for lunch?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Price teased.

“No spoilers?”

“Afraid not. You’re gonna love it, though.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Soap hummed, brushing his palm against Price’s facial hair as he brought it down to grasp his partner’s own hand. “You gonna be alright for an hour, mate?” His attention turned to Ghost briefly.

“I’m in the shit if not,” Ghost shrugged.

“That you are. Cheers. I’ll be back in a bit, try not to kill Gary while I’m gone, eh?”

“You wanna be here for it?” Ghost tested, earning him a scolding look from the Scot. A series of goodbyes were given as Soap and Price left the premises. Minutes passed before Ghost proceeded with his tasks. “Did you need somethin’?”

Gary lifted his head. “Huh? Oh, no, it’s okay. I figured it out.”

“Good lad,” Ghost remarked thoughtlessly as he started putting clean glasses back on the shelf.

“Was that praise?”

“Don’t know.”

“It _sounded_ like praise,” Gary challenged.

“That’s funny, sounded like _words_ t’ me.”

“I appreciate it.”

“What?” Ghost grunted.

“That you _don’t_ think I’m doing a terrible job. It means a lot, coming from you.”

“Stop arse-kissing.”

Gary snorted. “You wish!”

Again, it was too close for comfort. “I’ll be takin’ my lunch break when Soap gets back. Figure yours out with him. F’ now, focus on drinks – I’m gonna sort the tables. Give me a shout if you… y’know, get stuck or whatever.”

“Got it,” Gary said. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell Soap you were nice to me.”

“Fuck off,” Ghost grumbled as he moved away.

The Lieutenant was in the other area for some time, but Gary didn’t struggle by himself. In fact, he was impressed he’d managed to pick up what he had so far as _fast_ as he had. Especially with the added pressure from Ghost. When things calmed down, the masked man returned to the bar. “Didn’t hear my name. We all good over here?”

“All good,” Gary assured.

“That’s what I like t’ hear.”

“Hey Ghost, I uh – had a question… since it’s not too busy.”

Ghost tensed. “Alright.”

He was somewhat shocked he wasn’t told to shut up or get on with his work by the other, but he recovered by clearing his throat. “How’d you come to work here?”

“Soap hooked me up.”

“So what did you do before this?”

He was met with a long pause. “I have another job alongside this one. Been doin’ it a lot longer.”

“Yeah? Is it similar to this?”

“No.”

“Oh,” Gary’s curiosity was piquing again. “What – uh – what do you do then?”

“You said _a_ question. That’s enough.”

“But –”

“Enough, Gary. Less talk more work.”

Gary nodded, disheartened but not defeated. Endless mystery shrouded Ghost, countless questions and infuriating layers. He’d have to be patient. It’d been about an hour since Soap left, as he returned with Price's arm around him and lovesick smiles on their faces. “That bloody flew by,” the Scot sighed.

“That it did. We’ll do it again, love. I’m needed back on duty, I’ll see you later?” Price was already backing out the door, blowing a kiss to his partner in the process.

“Nice time?” Ghost asked, squinting.

“Wonderful,” Soap hummed. “Thank you for asking. How did things go here?”

“No problems. Gary’s got a gob and a bloody half but that’s about it.”

Thankfully, Gary had taken himself off to the toilets before Soap returned, meaning he wasn’t around to hear Ghost’s words, although it wasn’t like he _wouldn’t_ say them to his face. “We all have our quirks,” Soap reasoned. “At least he says interesting things.”

“He does?” Ghost mocked, rolling his eyes.

“Shut up. You _know_ he does. Besides, this is only his second day – he’s probably still nervous.”

“Yeh, whatever. I’m takin’ my lunch break, told Gary you’d let him know about his.”

Soap squinted, watching Ghost pack up and leave.

It was perfectly timed, as Gary came back seconds after. “Oh, Soap – you’re back! Where’s Ghost?” There was a hint of concern on the younger’s face, worried he’d been caught out having left the bar unattended somehow.

“He just went for lunch, it’s alright, I got back a couple minutes ago.”

Relief washed over Gary. “Ah, good. He told me to ask you about my lunch… I don’t mind waiting a while, if things need to be done.”

“You’re welcome to have it now.”

“Wait, really?”

“Aye, I can handle things for an hour. Go on.”

“Thanks Soap, I – uh – probably won’t be far so if you… need anything…”

“I’ll be fine,” Soap stated, nodding at the door. “Enjoy your lunch.”

Gary smiled, snatching up his pack. “Back soon.” He made his way out into the fresh air, the sunshine peeking out through the clouds a ray of hope that the rest of the day would run smoothly. He took a deep breath and looked around, noting a figure in the distance. It was Ghost, seated on a lonely bench. Gary’s tongue pressed against the backs of his teeth, debating whether to go over or somewhere entirely different. Truth be told, he didn’t know Hereford like the others, and the last thing he wanted was to get lost when he was due back from lunch.

Deciding to take the risk, Gary gripped his bag tight in his hands and approached. Immediately, the air changed once he was sighted.

“What d’ _you_ bloody want? I’m at lunch,” Ghost snapped.

Gary, at first, didn’t respond. He plopped himself down into the empty seat beside the other, ensuring he wasn’t invading his personal space. Then, he reached into his bag and pulled out the lunch he’d made himself, giving Ghost a glimpse. “So am I.” A broad smile was given, fingers tugging away the packaging he’d wrapped his food in.

“You’ve got an entire fucking city…”

“I don’t know Hereford all that well,” Gary admitted. “Would hate to get lost.” His words were muffled as he took a bite of his sandwich.

“Yeh,” Ghost responded, observing the other quietly. “Wouldn’t that be a shame.” Why was he so persistent? He _kept_ coming back, insult after insult. No matter what Ghost did, it didn’t seem to work.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

Teeth gritted; tongue ravenous to say something cruel. “I prefer peace and quiet.”

“I can be quiet,” Gary stressed. He worked to avoid Ghost’s stare, could feel it burning his skin and he wondered what the other was thinking.

Whereas Ghost was struggling to take his eyes off the younger lad. Taking in every detail, there had to be something wrong with this bloke. Something off… It was in this time that Ghost had noted Gary wasn’t the worst _looking_ person to work with. Brown, near sandy locks fell clumsily across his scalp, dancing with the gentle breeze that passed them every so often. He had stubble, a faded shadow that emphasized certain features on his face. Ghost was conscious he was staring, wondered whether the other cared or not – he showed no discomfort. Eventually, he pulled his gaze away in a different direction.

“This is a nice spot.”

“What?” The Lieutenant was dragged from his thoughts.

“This spot you picked, it’s nice.”

He didn’t know what to say to that.

“I don’t ever mean to… seem pushy, you know?” Gary added. “I just… wanted to know what you _do_. Job-wise, I mean. But you don’t _have_ to tell me. You don’t have to tell me anything, if you don’t want to.”

“I know I don’t.”

“Good… good, I’m glad. Pressure is the _worst_.”

Ghost squinted at the landscape, a foot quietly grazing the grass. “Military,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “Can’t say much about it. Special forces shit.”

Gary fell speechless for a moment.

“Don’t break on me, Gary.”

“I – I’m good I just… wasn’t expecting that. Wow. That’s… that’s really fucking awesome, Ghost.”

And Ghost hadn’t been expecting _that_. “ _Awesome_?”

“ _Fuck_ yeah. Man, I’m working towards the military myself.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why?” Gary arched a brow, turning to face the other. “Think I couldn’t hack it?”

“You prepared f’ what comes after?”

“After?”

“The shitstorm that follows you around. The consequences. It never leaves you.”

Gary sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“But you still want to go?”

“I want to help people,” Gary said honestly. “I like helping people. If I can make the world even a little bit safer? Seems worth it to me.”

Joining the military took everything from Ghost. _Everything_. But, in the same way, it made him into the man his younger self lacked for protection.

“So are you… waiting for a call then? Keeping yourself busy in the meantime?” Gary sought to move the conversation on, picking up on the shift in Ghost’s energy.

“Exactly that.”

“Will you… let me know?”

“Know what?” Ghost glanced over.

“When you next have to leave?”

“Does it matter?”

“You don’t _have_ to… but I’d appreciate it.”

“That changes everything,” Ghost replied sardonically.

Gary merely smirked back. They finished their lunch together, silence falling between them – though it was an unusual one. It was mutual, and not hostile. A comfortable quiet, _comfortable_ in each other’s presence. Gary considered what this new information meant towards Ghost’s uncrackable façade. It added a lot and made sense of many things. He couldn’t help thinking about what the man must’ve witnessed, what he’d been involved in. He wasn’t in the shit himself yet, but Gary knew enough about special forces and that you don’t come out of that skipping through fields of daisies.

“I’m gonna head back in,” Gary announced. “Thanks for… letting me sit with you.”

Ghost tilted his head. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“About the… military stuff?”

“About me letting you sit with me. But yeh, the military shit too.”

Gary couldn’t withhold the chuckle that rose in him, mimicking the action of locking his lips and throwing away the key. He walked back towards the inn, stopping by his car to check everything was as he left it and then continued inside the building – oblivious to Ghost watching his every move back at the bench.

* * *

That evening, Simon laid on his bed staring at the ceiling. His window was cracked open, allowing the sound of light rain to be heard outside on the window ledge. He was thinking about his conversation with Gary. About how the other had mentioned wanting to join the military. The very same naïve enthusiasm he possessed when he’d first signed up. Now, his family was gone. His identity, his past home, his entire life – torn from him. It wasn’t the same for everyone, it hadn’t ended up that way for Soap or Price and Simon often wondered whether he’d merely been at the wrong place, wrong time. That it was simply bad luck.

He thought about Gary, pictured his face and that stupid smile. About how the wanker was managing to withstand Ghost’s relentless onslaught of insults and put downs. A hard shell, he imagined – maybe the bloke had been through his own shit. “He’s like a bloody cockroach,” he pointed out to himself. “Just keeps comin’ back. Stinking things out with his… eagerness.” Lips pursed, pausing as he considered the word. “ _Roach_ ,” he tried. Then, he huffed. “Roach it is. Sorry fella,” he said to no one. “There’a worse nicknames.”

Sighing, Simon shifted beneath his covers and closed his eyes, willing his mind to rest. He’d inform Gary of his nickname tomorrow which, oddly enough, he found himself _somewhat_ looking forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gary is gradually chipping away at Ghost.


	4. Chapter 4

“ _Roach_ ,” Gary repeated, staring incredulously. “ _That’s_ what you wanna call me?”

“You don’t like it?” Soap inquired. Simon had informed the Scot before they headed to work, and Soap had, at first, held the same reaction as Gary. However, it’d grown on him by the time they got to the inn.

“It’s not that!” Gary defended. “I just… _Roach_ ,” he tested again. “Around food and drink?”

“Nobody’ll give a shit about that,” Ghost added.

Gary considered them, squinting. “And you’re serious? You’re not fucking with me?”

“We’re not,” Soap confirmed.

Ghost shifted. “Look, you were _told_ you’d need one. That’s what fits you best.”

“Because I’m… disgusting and dirty?” Gary blinked.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” Ghost hissed, giving a shake of his head as he made his way over to set the tables, leaving Gary with Soap.

The Scot’s lip twitched. “Because you’re resilient. Persistent, despite… the circumstance. Ghost’s actually the one that came up with it, y’ know?”

“He did?”

“Aye. Not often he puts the effort in for somethin’ like that.”

Gary’s brows furrowed. “Bollocks… and I just completely disrespected it, huh?”

“Not at all, lad. Don’t worry about him.”

“I’m sure I’ll get used to it eventually. I mean, it must’ve been weird when people started calling you _Soap_ , right? Uh – how exactly did that end up happening?”

“We don’t really talk about our nicknames. Just be pleased you’ve got one, lad.”

Gary nodded, biting his lip. “Right. Will I be getting another badge with that on then?”

“Tomorrow, aye. It’ll be an official one, too. No more FNG.”

“An official badge, huh?” Roach breathed. _No more ‘fucking new guy’_ , which was what Soap had told him it stood for.

“That indeed. Now, I’ve got some things t’ be gettin’ on with over here, so how about you give Ghost a hand.”

Roach gave a firm nod and departed from the bar. Most of the tables had already been neatly set, with Ghost finishing the final few. “Need a hand?”

“Soap showed you what t’ do, yeh?”

“He did.”

“Tables four ‘n’ five need doin’ then.”

“On it.” Roach approached table four and began setting it out the way Soap had showed him. Cutlery was placed into the bullet casing shaped pot in the centre, army green napkins positioned next to where the plates would go and menus were slipped back into the holder shaped like the front of a tactical vest. He ensured the surface was clean, straightening the chairs up, then moved to table five to repeat.

Finished, he turned to Ghost. “All done.”

“Guests will be down soon. Make sure the bar tables are all clear.”

“Yes, sir,” Roach mimicked a salute and made his way over to the smaller tables – checking them for any dirt. He had to wipe a couple down, due to people not using the coasters, but it didn’t take him long. The build up to customers coming and going was mostly cleaning and ensuring things didn’t look shit – dusting the memorabilia regularly… Roach didn’t mind it. There was satisfaction to be gained from good reviews. “So we’re looking at larger numbers soon, then?”

Soap peered up from his place behind the bar. “Apparently so. Can’t imagine it’ll be anything we’re not used to.”

Roach’s voice was lowered. “What do you do when… Ghost has to leave?” He didn’t want the man to know they were talking about him.

The Scot raised a brow. “He talked t’ you about that, eh?”

“Uh… vaguely.” Roach was curious over Soap’s reaction – he’d seemed surprised, as though he hadn’t expected Ghost _to_ discuss it with him.

“I would manage. But I’ll manage even better with you around.”

The younger pulled a nervous expression. “No pressure.”

“Don’t start worryin’ about it yet, lad. When it happens, you’ll be prepared.”

“I suppose it gets quiet, without him around, huh?”

“Ghost?” Soap squinted. “Sometimes. Certainly does back at the apartment.”

“You two live together?”

“Heh, we do.”

Roach wondered what Ghost was like… at home. Away from working environments and in his safe space. He found himself imagining what his room was like, whether he had art on his walls or random animal bones or video games… What kind of person was Simon Riley? The man he had yet to speak to. “Must be fun.” Personally, Roach had never been one to share his space – not because he didn’t want to but because he didn’t trust many people with that responsibility.

“It can be, from time to time. More pros than cons, let’s say.”

“Really?”

“You seem surprised,” Soap observed.

“No, I just… Ghost has fun?”

That prompted a hearty laugh from the Scot.

“I didn’t mean that to sound –” Roach frantically began.

“That’s alright, mate. I get what you mean. He’s a work in progress. Then again, aren’t we all?”

“That we are,” Roach agreed. “Can I do anything to help?” He felt it was about time to change the subject.

“Pin the door open, mate. Let’s get some people in here.”

* * *

Soap had made himself and Ghost a curry to share for dinner, both men seated on the sofa with football droning on in the background.

“I’d say Roach is well on his way, wouldn’t you?” The Scot inquired, covering his mouth as he spoke to avoid spitting his food out.

“T’ what?” Simon’s mask was placed beside him on the chair’s arm, short hair messy and brows set in a firm line.

“The _job_. Maybe soon he’ll be able t’ be left to manage the place during our lunch.”

“Christ, he’s only been with us about a week.”

“Yeah but it didn’t take us long t’ know what we were doin’.”

“He’s not like us,” Simon replied flatly.

“He’d like t’ be,” Soap countered. Roach had also mentioned his aspirations regarding the military to the Scot.

“Yeh, well, ‘e’s got no idea.”

“Maybe he’d have more of one if you talked to him.”

“I _talk_ t’ him,” Simon defended.

“You patronize and intimidate him, Simon.”

“He’s robust – he _copes_.”

“I’m not givin’ you enough credit though,” Soap said, glancing over at the other as he took another mouthful.

“What d’ you mean?”

“I’ve seen you _trying_.”

“You see what you like t’ see,” the Brit huffed.

“No, no, I’ve seen you approaching him. Praising him. Not bein’ a total arsehole t’ him, unlike you were at first.”

“Well it’s pretty clear he’s not gonna quit, so why waste all my energy?”

Soap shook his head. “He growing on you?”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m just curious, mate! There’s nothin’ wrong with makin’ friends, y’ know? I’m glad you’re talking to someone.”

“ _Christ_ ,” Simon repeated.

“I’m serious, Simon. Good f’ you. The lad’s nice company – I reckon he’d do you some good.”

“I’m just _fine_.”

They proceeded to eat, conversation at a stop while they cleaned their plates. Soap collected Simon’s from him and took it over to the sink, where he started to clean them up. Simon glanced at his mask, a finger twitching as anxiety gnawed at his gut. Something was urging him to put it on, a lack of control in the moment. He denied it. Instead, his mind drifted to Roach. Soap was… somewhat right. The bloke could do him some good. Truth be told, Simon would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy having Roach around. Didn’t enjoy his little speeches and the interesting things he had to say. He’d be kidding himself if he said he didn’t have a mild appreciation for his company.

Besides, personality aside, it never hurt to have a little eye candy lingering. Something Roach definitely was. A handsome lad, Simon sometimes found himself admiring him – studying his features. He had wondered what Roach got up to in his spare time, recalling his comment about not being an _animal_. He didn’t strike him as much of a party-guy or a ladies’ man. Maybe he stayed home and played games or read books – maybe he preferred sports.

“Who scored?” Soap called from the kitchen.

Simon glanced in his direction. “What?”

“The game, mate. Who scored?”

He looked to the tv, noting that one of the teams was celebrating. He eyed the score bar at the top left. “Glasgow.”

“You’re joking!” Soap exclaimed.

“Yeh, you’re right,” Simon smirked.

“Ah, fuck you!”

A chuckle left the man, head shaking. “Think I’m gonna head t’ bed, mate.”

“Sure, just leave me t’ clean up your mess.”

“Cheers. See you t’morrow.”

Soap rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Night, Simon.”

Closing his door behind him, Simon stared at the floorboards of his room. He wasn’t necessarily tired, but he didn’t have anymore energy to converse. Therefore, he sat on the edge of his bed and sighed. In the living room he could hear Soap cheer – a finger thoughtfully tapping at his mattress. _Guess Glasgow scored after all_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get very excited for the next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the feedback so far, super glad you're all enjoying this fic!

Over the next two weeks, Roach desperately tried to break the ice – even more than he’d already done – with Ghost. The road was a lot smoother with Soap, the Scot somewhat predictable in a friendly, easy-going way. Ghost, however, was only predictable in the sense that he was _unpredictable_. Roach knew he could never have any expectations of the man. It’d been working though. Albeit agonisingly slow, the masked man was gradually becoming more comfortable with Roach’s presence. They even cracked jokes, and sometimes ate lunch together when Price took Soap out and the Scot offered to run things alone.

“You up for it?” Roach asked, pleading for Soap to join him for drinks at the inn – which Roach would pay for – in order to sit down and get to know him better. The plan was to also ask Ghost, although he’d prepared himself for a solid _no_ in that regard so he wanted to at least convince Soap to join him.

“Ah – t’night?”

“Yeah.”

“Shite. Sorry lad, I’m goin’ out for a meal with Price…” Soap admitted.

“Oh, that’s… a shame, but it’s okay. We could always do another night?” Roach offered.

Behind them, Ghost approached the bar and began tidying away dirty glasses. Soap glanced over Roach’s shoulder, then back at him. “We could,” he nodded. “Have you asked Ghost yet?”

“Not yet… But I don’t imagine he’d be interested.”

Apparently that had been taken as a request for Soap to step in and invite the masked man _for_ him, as the Scot’s arm was placed over Roach’s shoulder, turning him to face Ghost. “Oi,” he called out.

Ghost glanced up from his work. “What?”

“Roach here wants to ask you if you wanna go for a drink t’night. I can’t make it, goin’ out with Price, but I don’t want his plans t’ be ruined.”

“You can’t make it another night?” Ghost grunted.

Unbeknownst to Roach, Soap gave the Brit a stern look. “I don’t want everyone waitin’ on me.”

“It’s really okay, we can just –” Roach tried to interject but was immediately cut off by Soap.

“I’m sure Ghost would be happy t’ come along.”

The look the Brit gave Soap from behind the bar made Roach nervous. It was a ‘ _why the fuck are you signing me up to this_?’ look.

“ _Wouldn’t_ you, Ghost?” Soap added, the icing on the cake.

“You _really_ don’t have to,” Roach attempted to level.

Ghost’s gaze focused on Sanderson for a few moments, clearly deliberating which Roach inwardly appreciated. Even if he said no, he didn’t jump to it. Much to Roach’s surprise, however, Ghost shrugged. “If you can handle it.”

Handle what? His alcohol? Time with Ghost? He subconsciously bit his lip. “Sure I can.” It was difficult to come across as confident with Soap MacTavish towering over you. The younger was tall, that’d never been an issue for him, but he wasn’t as burly or muscular as the others which had become clear as day to him upon spending more time with the two. “I – uh – I’ll buy, if you like?”

“Works f’ me,” Ghost accepted bluntly. “What time?”

All the while, Roach could _feel_ Soap grinning beside him. What was he up to? Why was this so amusing to him? Maybe he was just pleased to see Ghost getting along with someone, somewhat at least. “Eight?”

“Nine,” Ghost countered. He didn’t want too many people to be lingering.

“Right… Yeah, okay, nine works.” That gave them two hours before the place shut, which would be plenty of time. Hell, he wondered if Ghost would stick around for even _half_ of one. Whether he’d even show up – it could all be put on just to get Soap off his back.

“It’s a date,” the masked man said, tone rich as ever. Roach didn’t think he’d ever met anyone as intense as Ghost. His heavy stare was drawing sweat onto the nape of Sanderson’s neck and he found himself needing to gulp. “Headin’ out for a fag. One’a you cover the bar.”

Once Ghost had vacated the space, Roach slipped from under Soap’s grasp and headed over. “You didn’t need to do that,” Sanderson smiled weakly at the other. Somewhat forced, to hide his discomfort.

“Truth be told, mate, I didn’t do it for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ghost could do with some company, other than myself. He seems t’ be gettin’ more comfortable with you, and I think you’d do him some good.”

“All due respect, Soap, I’m not sure I’m the right person to –”

“Look, if you find after t’night it’s not somethin’ you wanna be a part of, I won’t hold it against you. I wouldn’t put this on you if I felt you couldn’t handle it. Just have a couple drinks, talk a little.”

Roach watched him carefully, debating whether he was allowing Soap to set him up for disaster. Was this a good idea? Drinks with Ghost. Would he wear the mask?

“A _couple_ drinks, yeah?” Soap emphasized. “Don’t let him have too many. He gets carried away.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Not at all! I’ll have my phone so you can call me if he gives you any trouble, though. Which he won’t.” They’d exchanged numbers a few days back, in case one wasn’t able to get in to work or they needed to contact each other.

_That’s reassuring_. Roach rubbed his forehead. “Where’a you going with Price?”

Soap’s expression appeared to light up at the mention of his boyfriend, which Roach always found to be cute. It had to be nice, to have someone you could rely on like that – emotionally… physically. “A restaurant, just some fancy grub. I’ll probably be stayin’ over at his place, too. All the more reason for Ghost t’ keep distracted. I don’t like leaving him on his own.”

Sanderson blinked, clearing his thoughts. “Sounds nice. I hope you have a great time, and don’t worry about Ghost… I’ll – I’ll try my best.”

“I have no doubts.”

They exchanged a smile as Ghost re-entered, their gazes shifting to the man as he came into sight. He paused, looking between the two. “I interrupt somethin’?”

“Roach and I were just talkin’ about some’a next week’s shifts,” Soap covered.

“Anything I need t’ know?”

“Nothin’ you don’t already know, mate.” Soap rubbed his hands together. “Right, lads. Let’s get things clean for this evening’s staff.”

* * *

There was hardly anyone at the bar by nine o’clock. The tables had cleared, leaving only a few overnight customers and evening drinkers. Roach had arrived five minutes early, preferring to wait than leave others waiting – however, the clock passed nine and his fingers tapped anxiously at the table. He’d picked one somewhat isolated from the others, in hopes they wouldn’t be bothered by anyone coming or going. Ten minutes passed by, small sips leading him to have had half his beer already. Then, when his will to stay started to deplete, a bloke walked through the door. Roach eyed him, studying the khaki hoodie he wore, its hood pulled over his head and the pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. A black neck warmer was tugged over the lower part of his face, keeping his mouth and nose hidden and Sanderson couldn’t help but wonder why someone would be dressed like that? Until the bloke seemed to spot him and closed the distance, then it became clear.

“Ghost?” He nearly choked, shocked to see the flesh of the man’s face peeking out at him. He’d been fully expecting to see the mask.

“Simon,” his company corrected.

“You told me not to –”

“Just this _once_ ,” Simon said, brows visible and lifting from behind his shades. This was the most expression from Ghost that Roach had been exposed to.

Sanderson swallowed, trying to moisten his dry throat. “Was starting t’ think you weren’t gonna show.”

“So was I,” Simon admitted, and Roach wondered whether he’d had some kind of internal debate back home. “You already started drinking.”

“I did. You want something?”

“Beer’s fine.”

Roach gave a nervous smile and stood. “I’ll be right back.” He caught sight of Simon’s leg bouncing under the table. How often did he go out like this? Regardless, he approached the bar and ordered Simon a beer, handing over some cash in exchange for it. He brought it back to the table and placed it in front of the other. “There ya go.” He remained opposite Simon and tried to seat himself as far back as he could in an attempt to look comfortable.

“Cheers.” There was a moment of uncertainty – and while it was difficult to make out Simon’s eyes, Roach could see they were focused entirely on him. He’d pulled the mask above his mouth before during work hours for a drink, not that he was aware Roach was watching him at the time, which was likely why he seemed hesitant. However, Roach didn’t have time to make any comment as the warmer was tugged down, revealing a pleasantly sculptured jawline and a shadow of stubble, vaguely darker than his own. If the rest of his face was as easy on the eyes as what he could currently see then he concluded Simon must’ve been very attractive. He couldn’t understand why the man hid himself the way he did.

“You don’t need to hide yourself from me,” Roach tried to ease the tension but managed to only make it worse.

“I don’t do it f’ you.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you do. I just don’t want you to feel like… you have to, you know?”

“Sure, Roach.” Simon’s voice was much clearer than usual, able to be fully appreciated. Sanderson found it near impossible to keep his eyes from glancing at the other’s lips. A voice to be treasured, it seemed notably softer without the mask. Not hugely different, but identifiable. Was this Simon beneath a thin layer of Ghost?

“How was your evening?”

A finger subconsciously tapped at the table as he considered Roach. “Fine. Nothing new. Yours?”

“Better now, I guess.” That seemed to catch Gho– _Simon_ off-guard. “I live alone so… quiet, as you’d expect.”

“That’s not what I’d expect, actually.”

Roach squinted. “How so?”

“You ever _met_ yourself?”

“I can be _quiet_ ,” Roach argued, following Simon’s playful tone – or at least he hoped that was what it was.

“Sure, you just like t’ bug _me_ specifically.”

“Well, you certainly make it easy.”

Their eyes met; Simon’s lips slightly crooked… was that a smirk? He took a long drink of his beer, half a glass to be exact. “Now we’re equal.”

Roach shook his head, rolling his eyes. “So, Simon, what do you get up to outside of work? Other than… what we’ve talked about, of course.”

Simon grew cautious of the question. “Nothing special. I work out, read, smoke, drink, hook up with people… _distracted_. I keep distracted.”

No wonder Soap didn’t like to leave the bloke alone – if these questionable hobbies were true, Simon was extremely bad company for himself. “Hook up with people, huh?”

“Like most people, yeh.”

Roach found it hard not to recoil at that. “Ouch. Guess I’m not like most people, then.”

Simon huffed with amusement. “Oh, you’re definitely not like most people, mate.”

“Excuse me? Says the guy who wears a mask.” For a moment he was worried it was a low blow, that Simon would fall quiet but his confidence seemed to inspire more out of the man.

“Hey, nobody’s perfect.”

“I’ll drink t’ that,” Roach agreed, taking a swig of his drink – Simon doing the same. “Maybe I can get you into some other hobbies.” _Healthier hobbies_ , he thought.

Simon seemed to change the subject. “How long you been in Hereford for?”

“Not long,” Roach said. It all seemed like a blur; the weeks having flown by. “Maybe a week or two before I got the job.”

“Ah, so you really are new to it all.”

“That I am. Haven’t really explored much, yet. Still settling into my place.”

“What were you doing before this?” Simon questioned, leaning in to hear better – due to his hoodie muffling the sound slightly. Or at least, that was the excuse he told himself. Roach looked good tonight, his style showing through. He wore a thin, cream sweatshirt with a brown leather coat that had what appeared to be wool around the collar and a pair of black jeans. Simon noted he seemed to prefer neutral, earthy tones – similar to his own taste.

“Uh… disappointing my dad, mostly,” he chuckled, clearing his throat when Simon didn’t react. “I was bouncing between different stuff. Even worked in a betting shop for a couple months.”

“Doin’ what you have to,” Simon justified. He’d hated his own father with his entire being, but to know the bastard was no longer around to criticize or patronizingly explain things to him? He hummed. “I can respect that.”

“Huh… thanks? Not used t’ that.”

“ _Understandably_. You ever bet on anything?”

Roach shook his head. “Pretty sure it was all rigged, anyway.”

“Heh, I’m sure.”

“It was all… to help me get here, so I could plan towards… you know, military stuff.”

Simon paused. “Force?”

“RM, I’m pretty sure. Soap mentioned that’s what he was part of.”

“He was,” Simon verified. “Why not the army?”

“Not sure I’m cut out for it,” Roach said briskly.

Simon gave a breathy laugh, a sound that held all of Roach’s attention. Had he done _that_ before? “You’d know by basic training.”

Still recovering, Roach shrugged and took another gulp of his beer, realizing it was now empty. “I’m gonna get another beer… you want one?”

Riley picked up his glass and chugged down what remained, then stood. “I’ll get ‘em.”

“Oh… okay. Should we set up a tab?”

He met Roach’s gaze and smirked. “I like your thinking, Bug.” Then, he left for the bar, giving Roach a few moments to compose himself.

He’d drank his beer too fast, that was all. However, he couldn’t deny what a good time he was having with Simon. The original tension had faded significantly, and already Roach felt he knew more about the other. Soap was right, it definitely seemed that Simon needed this… and if he was being honest, he needed this too.

“Alright Darlin’, fancy puttin’ these on a tab for me?” Simon asked the bartender. It was another staff member he was familiar with, a German woman named Monika, who’d worked at The Barracks for a couple of years. His outfit was no shock to her, since Simon often dressed this way when not wearing the mask.

“Of course, Ghost,” Monika winked, passing the beers over. She nodded over to Roach. “You on a date? He’s cute!”

Simon glanced over his shoulder back at his company for the evening, blinking. “What? _No_ , Mon, that’s the – uh – newbie workin’ shifts with me ‘n’ Soap.” Monika had yet to meet Roach, since he was currently on a daytime rota.

“Oh baby, haha, _sorry_!” She giggled. “You seem to get along though,” she winked again, causing Simon to grumble. “What’s his name?”

“R– Gary, it’s Gary.”

“Well, if _you’re_ not dating him _I_ might have to. Tell him I said hi!”

“Tell ‘im yourself,” Simon grunted. Why had that annoyed him? Roach was just… company. Hardly even a friend. Why would it matter if Monika wanted to spend time with him?

“I’m _working_ ,” Monika pouted. “Please.”

“Christ, alright, alright,” he sighed. “Cheers f’ the drinks.” Simon brought the beers over to the table, setting the fresh glasses down. “Here.”

“Thanks!” Roach chirped. “Who was that? If you… don’t mind me asking.”

“Who?” Simon asked, following Roach’s gaze. “Oh, that’s Monika. She works nights here, has done f’ quite some time.”

“Ah… you know all the staff or?”

“Most of ‘em, yeh. Soap ‘n’ I do days and nights so we know most of ‘em. You’ll get around to it eventually.”

“That’s cool,” Roach smiled. “Seems like a nice group of people to be around.”

Simon could feel Monika watching him, see her in his peripheral – _waiting_. “Uh… She wanted me t’ let you know she… reckons you’re, y’ know, _cute_.”

Roach’s brows raised at that. “What?” He let out a nervous chuckle. “That’s… that doesn’t happen a lot. Wow, that’s very nice of her.” He glanced over at the woman who proceeded to wink at him and his smile faltered, gaze frantically flicking back to Simon.

“You weren’t kidding.”

“What?”

“You’re blushing.”

“Shut up, it’s the beer,” Roach denied. “Listen, I’m awkward with compliments, okay? There, I said it. Don’t hold it against me.”

Simon’s hands clasped together, allowing Roach to notice he wasn’t wearing gloves. His heartbeat picked up, tracing the many scars that littered them. They were large hands, definitely a little larger than Sanderson’s – and he struggled to draw his eyes away from them. “How’s a bloke like you uncomfortable with compliments?”

“What do you mean, a bloke like me?”

“Well clearly the ladies like you. You’re tellin’ me you don’t get showered with ‘em?”

“I really don’t,” Roach exhaled. “D’ _you_ get a lot of compliments?”

“You suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“What? No, of course not. You’re… very handsome, for the record – _I mean_ , I can understand why you _would_ get a lot of compliments… y’ know… if you _do_ …” Roach trailed off, realizing he’d made a mess of his words. “I just meant that you wear the mask a lot…” He’d been expecting Simon to laugh at him, to mock him, but instead the man’s face was fixed with concentration. Roach shifted anxiously in his seat.

“You haven’t seen my face,” Simon stated. “Not all of it, at least.”

“Generally, I meant. Handsome… _generally_. When you’re not being an arsehole, that is.”

Simon wet his lips. “You think I’m an arsehole?”

Uh-oh, he was digging himself deeper into shit creek. “Is that a trick question?”

He could see Simon’s eyes narrow behind his shades, lips threatening to curve which he covered by taking a sip of beer. “Touché.”

Roach’s features radiated relief as he took a few sips of beer himself. “You are an enigma…”

“Me?”

“Yeah, Simon, _you_.”

“S’pose I am,” Riley agreed. “That bother you?”

“No,” Roach answered, a little too quickly for his liking.

“No?”

“No,” he said firmer this time. “Men can be so predictable.”

“And you don’t like predictable?”

Roach warily eyed him and took another sip – stalling. “It’s…”

“ _Predictable_?” Simon finished his sentence, arching a brow, prompting Gary to tiredly chuckle. A glance at the clock tells him they’d been talking for an hour already.

“Yeah,” he breathed through his amusement. “That.”

Simon was captivated by this man. He couldn’t comprehend what was happening, but everything about him… he simply couldn’t keep his eyes off him. Wanted to listen to him all night. “ _You’re_ a little unpredictable.”

“I’m definitely not,” Roach disagreed.

“Yeh, you fuckin’ are.”

“How am I unpredictable?”

Simon leaned back in his seat, widening the gap. “You’ve got this… shy, nervous air about you. When I first met you, I expected t’ be able to walk all over you. If I’m bein’ honest I thought you’d quit on your first day.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“ _But_ , you _surprised_ me. That doesn’t happen often, believe me. You stood up t’ me. You persisted ‘til you got shit right.”

“Has anyone ever stood up t’ you before?”

“Only a few people. Namely Soap and Price.”

“Why did you want to walk all over me?” Roach tilted his head, a frown light on his face.

“I didn’t. I was… dealin’ with some shit. You happened t’ be on the receiving end. Let’s just say I’m better at pushin’ people away than I am at keepin’ ‘em around.”

Roach chewed on his lip. “Soap’s stuck around.”

“Yeah, well he’s a stubborn bastard. I got lucky, meeting him.”

Sanderson sighed. “I hope I’m not crossing a line or anything but… you’re always welcome to… talk t’ me if you want. If you ever wanna get something off your chest… You could text me! You uh – you have my number so… if you didn’t wanna talk in person or…”

“ _Roach_ ,” Simon cautioned.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll shut up now, I just figured you should know, at least.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

“ _Good_! Good… because no one should be alone. Even you, _tough guy_ ,” Roach laughed nervously. “Anyway,” he gave Simon an apologetic look. He wrote all his thoughts and feelings down in a journal and shut them away from prying eyes – never a fan of opening up to people himself, so he understood the discomfort that came from others trying to force that on you. “I appreciate you coming here t’night… you really didn’t have to and could’ve… chosen not to show up so –”

“I’m glad I did,” Simon reassured. “I’m enjoying myself.”

“Yeah? That’s… that’s great. Same here. Always terrifying, moving places where you don’t know anyone. Daunting, really fucking daunting. Both you and Soap have… made this much easier on me.”

“Not at first,” Simon said. “Which was fucking selfish of me.”

“You didn’t know,” Roach eased. “Really, _no_ grudges. Not with you, anyway.”

“Not with me?” Curiosity had been piqued. “Who’a you holding a grudge over then?”

“What? Nobody. I don’t – it’s not _important_.”

“I need t’ know who your enemies are,” Simon smirked. “They’re my enemies too.”

“Shut up, you’re lying.”

“I’m not. Solidarity ‘n’ shit.”

Roach gazed up at the other through his lashes, laughing softly. “That was beautiful,” he snorted, raising his glass in Simon’s direction, which the other hesitantly copied. “To solidarity ‘n’ shit.”

“ _Exactly_.” Simon knocked his glass against Roach’s and then the two proceeded to drink the rest of their beer.

* * *

The next hour passed swiftly, a few more beers chugged before Monika had to remind them they were closing for the night shortly. The tab was paid, and Simon offered to pay for a cab back which Roach ended up agreeing to. The plan was for Simon to be taken home first, then Gary, however upon walking Simon to his door, the man stopped in his tracks.

“Are you okay, Simon?” Gary asked, stepping around the other’s larger form to locate his face.

“Stay,” he whispered.

Gary blinked, brows raising at the unexpected request. “Here?”

“Here.”

It was a quick debate, leading to him racing back down to the cab to let the driver know plans had changed. Roach ended up paying what Simon owed him and waved him off, returning to his company’s side. “I can stay,” he confirmed.

A sigh left Riley. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to unlock the door,” Simon admitted. Gary started to snicker, and Simon followed after. The two stood for a few good minutes regaining themselves and then proceeded up to the door, which, as expected, Simon battled with in order to gain access. He managed in the end and led Roach inside.

“I can take the sofa,” Gary suggested. It was bizarre, being in Soap and Simon’s apartment. Though his observations were cut short when Simon turned to him. It was difficult to tell with the buzzing in his head what his intentions were, therefore, he remained still as Simon leaned in close. Roach’s skin was getting hot, a tingling sensation running down his spine at the feeling of the other’s breath on his cheek.

“There’s space in my room,” he offered.

“‘s fine, Simon… sofa’s fine…”

Their eyes met and despite the darkness of the room and the shades, at this distance Gary could make Simon’s eyes out. There was a split second of panic, an uncertainty of what was going to happen – what any of this meant, until Simon briskly turned and made his way down the hall. He disappeared into a room, which Gary assumed was his own. “Night, Roach.” The door wasn’t shut, and he could hear the other collapsing onto his bed.

Momentarily frozen in place, Roach was stuck on whether he should leave or stay. Gradually, his adrenaline eased and he made his way towards the sofa. Simon had _asked_ him to stay. Did he not want to be alone? A part of him desperately wanted to peek into Riley’s room, to look at the décor and see its layout but he didn’t want to disturb him, instead opting to place the stray remotes onto the nearby coffee table and settle himself into a comfortable position. There was a thin, green blanket hanging over the back of the long seat, which made Roach wonder how many times the lads ended up passing out, with the other tucking them into this very spot. A fond smile grew on his lips as he covered himself with it. Exhaling heavily, after the long but extremely pleasant evening, Gary’s eyes began to close – and he slipped into a comfortable sleep, excited for what the following day would hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ghost's wall desperately keeps trying to come up and find ways to push Roach away. How far's it going to take him?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day? juicy

Morning came around and Gary found he could barely open his eyes. The sun shone through open blinds, stirring him. He inhaled deeply, allowing himself to adjust as he sat up on the sofa and attempted to take in his surroundings. He couldn’t fully recall the previous night, and it took a moment to remember he was at Simon’s place. _Simon_ , he thought. A grin developed on his lips as he rose to his feet, stretching and groaning at the discomfort in his back from the way he'd slept.

Quietly, Roach made his way down the hall and over to Riley’s door, where he lingered for a moment. It was wide open, more so than it’d been before he passed out, and a quick look around revealed Simon to be absent. Brows furrowed as he checked again, ensuring his blurry vision wasn’t playing tricks on him. “Simon?” He called out, wondering whether the other would be cruel enough to hide in an attempt to freak him out. “That’s not funny. Where are you?”

Roach checked the other rooms, noting the one that was Soap’s, and couldn’t find Simon anywhere. “What the fuck, Simon?” He called again, panic gnawing at his stomach. What if he’d gone out? Why would he leave Gary here, alone? Maybe he’d gone for groceries and would be back soon? Worried, he freed his phone from his pocket.

**11:25**.

It was almost noon! Thankfully, there was no work as he wasn’t on the rota, and he knew Simon wasn’t either, which meant he wasn’t at The Barracks. Roach unlocked his phone and searched his contacts for Simon’s number and stared at it. He pressed the call button and listened – it cut straight to answerphone. “Fuck,” he hissed, scrolling further down for Soap’s number. This time, it started ringing.

“Roach!” Soap chirped on the other end. “How did last night go?”

Gary’s mind was racing. “Uh – fine… I think? I don’t know.”

“What d’ you mean?”

“I don’t know, because I ended up staying the night at your place… on the sofa and… when I woke up, Simon was gone! And I don’t know where he is, he hasn’t left me any messages and he wasn’t in the best shape when he went to sleep? Have you heard from him?”

“Slow down, mate, slow down. He’s not in his room?” Soap’s tone was firmer.

“No! And I’ve searched the whole place I… do you think he might’ve gone out somewhere?”

There was a heavy sigh. “He might’ve received a call.”

“From who? I didn’t hear anything.”

“A work call,” Soap added. “They call him, he goes. That’s how it often is f’ me. Maybe he’s attending a job.”

Gary thought about the special forces work Simon had mentioned… Maybe Soap was right. But why would he leave without saying anything? “When will he be back?”

“Hard t’ say. Sometimes he’s gone for a couple days, sometimes a few weeks.”

“A few _weeks_?” Gary repeated. Disappointment washed over him. Maybe last night was too much for Simon, maybe he took the job and ran for it to avoid him.

“I’m guessin’ he didn’t tell you about that. Sorry lad. He always updates me, so if I hear anything I’ll let you know.”

“Don’t bother.”

“Roach?”

“I don’t think that’s a concern of his. It’s fine. Hey, while I’ve got you – I don’t have any keys t’ your place… I can’t leave it unlocked.”

“Help yourself t’ whatever, mate. Sounds like you need it. I’m with Price at the moment, but I’ll be headed back shortly. If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll relieve you.”

“Yeah, okay. See you in a bit, Soap.” He ended the call and threw his phone at the sofa, bringing a hand to his forehead to rub at it. He needed water and painkillers.

Roach clenched his jaw, frustrated by the sorrow he felt in his gut. So what Simon left him? There were no obligations. They merely had a fun night drinking and talking – that meant nothing. He barely counted as a friend…

He thought about the way his skin heated under Simon’s gaze, relived the moment the other closed in on him in the doorway, with practically no distance between their forms. He took a ragged breath, running a hand through his hair. It was the alcohol, that was it. Simon was charming, it made perfect sense that Gary would’ve felt a little out of his depth.

“Shit,” he grunted, making his way over to the tap. He searched the cupboards for a clean glass and filled it with water, downing it breathlessly. The painkillers would have to wait, since he didn’t want to go rifling through Soap’s belongings.

Instead, he decided to go back to Simon’s room. He leaned against the doorway and slowly took everything in. His bed was messy, its covers plain and white – as were the walls. In fact, the room itself seemed… plain. Undecorated, a built-in wardrobe barely hiding clothes that hadn’t been hung up properly. There wasn’t mess all over the floor, which he appreciated, but it didn’t smell as clean as Gary’s own room and there were numerous cracks in the walls. He could see a shelf that contained numerous books and video games, and a clearly damaged desk beside it littered with pieces of paper containing scribbled notes. There was no art, no self-indulgence or expression. A room that could easily be converted into something else – as though it was spare, like no one was actually _living_ in it. A ghost’s room, he supposed. It was sad to see, an insight into Simon’s mind – Gary frowned at the apparent smeared blood stains on the walls.

He’d hoped for something more, Soap’s room was full of life; a fish tank near the bed and a plant on the windowsill, pictures framed on his walls and a large map pinned up. The room was neat, clean and it smelt fresh. The man behind the mask, Simon was an entirely different person in many ways than what Gary had anticipated. Nevertheless, he approached the messy bed and sat on the edge of it. He grimaced at how uncomfortable it felt. A glance at the bottom sheet revealed stains he didn’t want to even think about. Hands reached for the top pillow, lifting it to his face. He inhaled, taking in Simon’s powerful musk, the stink of cigarettes swirling in his head. The pillow was placed back on the bed, then Gary stood and made his way over to the desk. He didn’t read the notes, didn’t want to see anything he shouldn’t – though this happened anyway when he pulled open one of the rickety drawers to find a pistol resting in it. Gary blinked at the weapon – it was real. Surrounding it were a handful of packeted condoms, empty cigarette boxes and a lighter with a skull on it. It was closed, and Gary turned to leave the room, his stomach churning at the thought of Simon living in that space. How against intervention he must be, if Soap resided next door and even with his stubbornness, he couldn’t get Simon to make changes.

As he entered the hallway, the front door opened to reveal Soap crossing the threshold. “Cheers for waitin’, mate, you know someone’s a real one when they don’t fuck off and leave your apartment open to the entire neighbourhood,” he joked.

“That’s okay,” Gary shrugged.

“Did you have something to eat?”

“No… Actually, I was hoping I could borrow some painkillers?”

“You can have some,” Soap said, “but I won’t be wanting ‘em back.”

Gary couldn’t keep himself from smiling. “You know what I mean.”

“Aye,” he reached into one of the cupboards above the sink and tossed them over. “Here, take two’a those.” Soap manoeuvred himself over to the sofa and sat down. “Right, what can I cook you?”

Gary almost choked on his tablets, gulping down more water to stave off a cough. “Nothing! Really, it’s fine, I’ll go home and make something…”

“You like omelettes?”

“ _Soap_!”

“ _Do_ you or do you _not_ like omelettes?” Soap stressed.

Gary realized Soap wouldn’t give up and resigned to leaning back into the sofa next to the Scot. “I do.”

“Great,” he hummed, pushing himself up from his seat. Soap entered the kitchen; which Gary could see from his spot. “So, tell me about last night.”

_I’d rather not think about it_ , Gary said in his head. “It went alright.”

“Only alright?”

“We had a good time. Simon… _said_ he enjoyed it so…”

“Blimey,” Soap gasped from the stove.

“What?”

“He _never_ says that. He must’ve _really_ enjoyed it.”

“Clearly not, seeing as he’s fucked off without a word.”

Soap paused, glancing over at Gary. “I wouldn’t take it personally, mate. He does it a lot, even t’ me. Bloke struggles t’ process things. Prefers to… compartmentalize. Trouble is, he never deals with it, just keeps chuggin’ along.”

“That’s not healthy.”

“Nope, but he’d never let you tell him that. He’s lost a lot, lad. It’s up to him t’ tell you about it, but he lost… pretty much everything, actually, for some time. Took a lot to build himself back up.”

“What do you mean, everything?”

“ _Everything_ ,” Soap emphasized. “Been through more than anyone could ever imagine, and only he knows the true extent of it. Uses that mask t’ cope, which is why I’m surprised you’ve been calling him Simon.”

“I had no idea…” Roach replied. “He told me to, last night. Just this once, he said. When before, he told me never to call him Simon.”

“Aye, sounds like he’s got some shite t’ process. I’d take it as a compliment. I know that’s… hard t’ hear, but usually if he doesn’t want you stickin’ around he’d tell you t’ _fuck off_. You didn’t wake up on the pavement, so that’s somethin’.” In the background, Soap was preparing the omelette he’d mentioned, the tapping of the pan and cracking of the eggs a comforting sound.

“Sounds like Ghost, alright.”

“A defence mechanism,” Soap told him. “That’s what Ghost is. Don’t confuse the two. When one’s active, the other’s close to dormant. It’s Ghost that’ll try ‘n’ shut you out.”

“How do you get around that?”

“You don’t. You leave him to figure his shite out. If you’re met with Ghost, you just do exactly what you’ve been doin’ so far. Show him you can’t be intimidated.”

“And if I’m met with Riley?”

“Then you’ll be fine.” Roach could hear Soap approaching. He placed the plate onto the coffee table, knife and fork balanced next to the finished omelette. “There ya go. Help yourself to sauces in the fridge ‘n’ what not.”

Gary studied the plate and the food on it, noting how his stomach rumbled. “Thanks, Soap. I’ll be outta your hair shortly.”

“Nonsense, mate. It’s nice t’ have the company.”

* * *

Roach had decided against further contacting Simon, fearful of looking desperate – bothersome. The man clearly had more important things to be getting on with and Sanderson needed to accept that and move on. Perhaps it’d be smarter to only view the other as a friend, to ensure there was absolutely no space for misunderstandings or questions. He could do that, could spend time with him without… admiring Simon’s deep voice. Without doting on his mere presence. When he left he left and when he returned he returned, as simple as that. He was capable of not letting the man’s absence affect his work, his concentration…

“Roach,” Soap called from the end of the bar, drawing him from his thoughts. So much for concentrating.

“Yeah!” He chirped, hoping the Scot hadn’t noticed his mental absence.

“You alright?”

“Fine, just didn’t sleep great last night but I’m on my second coffee so I’ll be right as rain soon.”

“You need t’ talk about anything?” Soap’s expression defied his question, outing that he already knew something was up.

Roach shook his head. “No really, _all_ good.”

“Alright, but I’m around if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, Soap.”

“Oh, by the way,” the Scot began, lifting his index finger into the air – like a lightbulb turning on, “Simon texted me.”

Roach blinked. “He did?” He’d not heard from him in days, not since their evening together.

“Aye, _mission_ – like I said it’d be. Doesn’t know when he’ll be back, though.”

“Did he uh – mention me at all?”

“No, but he rarely discusses names between people if you know what I mean. If he had somethin’ t’ say he’d let you know.”

“Right.” That was that then, Simon merely had nothing to say to him. Roach couldn’t deny the disappointment growing in his gut. “Okay, thanks for letting me know.”

“Ah, there he is.” He followed Soap’s attention over to the doorway where Price stood.

“On break,” Price reached out to bring an approaching Soap into a kiss. “Thought I’d stop by.”

“Is Gaz with you?”

“You’d be able t’ see me, if this bloody giant wasn’t blockin’ the doorway,” Gaz stated, nodding at Soap through a gap behind Price.

The Sergeant stepped aside, keeping an arm wrapped around his lover as he made space. “He refused t’ stay in the car,” Price teased.

“I could take a break myself, if you want?” Soap suggested, glancing up at the other.

Price paused, looking over at Roach. “Would you be alright with that, lad?”

“Oh – uh – sure! Not a problem, I can hold the fort,” Roach replied with a tense shrug. “There are other staff I can… call on if I have any issues.”

“That there are! No shame in messing up, either – just be sure t’ give someone a shout,” Soap reassured. “Great, well, we’re gonna nip outside for a few then – Gaz,” he turned to nod at Garrick, “feel free t’ make yourself comfortable, mate. This here’s Roach, he’ll grab you whatever you need.”

“Newbie, huh?” Gaz inquired, tilting his head.

Already Soap and Price were on their way outside, leaving Sanderson to entertain the officer. “Pretty much, only been here a few weeks.”

“You enjoyin’ it?” Garrick approached one of the stools and seated himself.

“I am. Gradually getting the hang on things. You work with Price?”

“Yep, PC Garrick, we weren’t properly introduced. I’m Price’s work partner.”

“Nice t’ meet you, Garrick.”

“Call me Gaz,” he shrugged.

“ _Gaz_ ,” Roach corrected himself. “What can I get you?”

“Coffee will be fine please, mate. Ghost not around?”

He hesitated, eagerly turning to make the drink in order to keep his expression hidden. “He’s not, unfortunately. No unfiltered criticisms today.”

Gaz chuckled. “Ah – so you’ve had the pleasure of getting t’ know him then.”

“I have.”

“He has his days, as all of us do, I suppose. Good guy once you get t’ know him better.”

“You think?” Roach hummed, finishing up with the coffee which he turned and placed in front of his company. He knew Simon could be a good guy, even _more_ than that in fact. But he was currently feeling biased.

“Yeah, definitely. Imagine he’s probably a big softie, underneath it all. Bloke’s got a lot of demons.”

“Huh…” He arched a brow, attempting to look busy in front of the other customers. What was it with all this secrecy surrounding the man?

“Look, it’s none of my business but – who d’ you know that wears a skull mask like that?”

“Nobody.”

“Exactly. Let that sink in. People who wear masks have shit t’ hide, no?”

“I mean I guess you’re right.” That made him feel sad to think Simon was _hiding_ things. Weighed down by countless problems and unable to seek help. “Anyway, how long you been in the force for?”

“Not nearly as long as Price. Can’t see myself staying that long, either.”

“No? Why not?”

“Dunno. Just think I could… be makin’ more of a difference, I suppose.”

“I see,” Roach nodded in acknowledgement. “Well, there’s plenty of time to figure that out. I hope you settle on something eventually though. Where you feel at home.”

“Cheers,” Gaz smiled, taking a sip of his coffee. Soap and Price reappeared, both looking slightly dazed in comparison to when they’d left and Roach blocked out the question of what they’d been up to. Probably snogging around the back of the building – or maybe more… Although he couldn’t be entirely grossed out by the idea. It was probably nice, being able to relieve yourself like that. To have someone to disappear off with. Ghost crossed his mind and he shifted.

“I’m back now, Roach,” Soap informed, squeezing Price’s hand which was grasped in his own. “Feel free t’ take your break if y’ like.”

“You sure?”

“Aye, I’ll handle things for a bit.”

“Alright, thanks. I’ll be back soon.” Roach nodded at Gaz. “Was nice to meet you, mate.”

“Yeah,” Gaz agreed. “Best of luck with the job.”

* * *

Over a week had gone by since he’d received the work call. Terrorist activity, recon was yet to be carried out but they needed a team on the ground, ready to work when given the go. He was currently in the Middle East, listening to the night’s silence – thinking about home. He’d up and left Roach behind, without a single word or whisper, overwhelmed by the night they’d had. Simon had acted drunker than he was, to hide his uncertainty of the situation. The image of Gary’s nervous expression was burned into his mind, the way his lip trembled and cheeks reddened. He looked so good in the moonlight, with sweat glistening on his forehead and a rasp in his voice from the hours of talking. They talked for nearly two hours. Even Soap had struggled to maintain a conversation with him for that long. He didn’t understand it, had hoped this mission would entirely distract him from home life but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t get Roach out of his head.

He scratched at his stubble, conscious of a scab he’d caused because scratching his face was a nervous habit of Simon’s. The Lieutenant had been staring at his phone for over an hour at this point. Roach’s number was on the screen, or at least, it had been until the screen went dark. He wanted to ignore everything, to lock it away and push on but he’d have to face it eventually. Soap would make him, if he didn’t. 

Simon unlocked the phone and started to type.

~~[ Roach. Wanted to apologize for ]~~

[ Roach. ] 02:39

[ You awake? ] 02:39

He was approximately four hours ahead of Roach.

[ Who is this? ] 02:41

  
[ Simon. I use a burner phone when working. ] 02:41

[ Busy? ] 02:42

[ You said I was always welcome to talk to you. ] 02:42  
  


[ I’m not busy. ] 02:43

[ What do you want to talk about? ] 02:43  
  


[ Hope I’m excused for fucking off without telling you. ] 02:44  
  


[ Life’s too short. ] 02:44  
  


[ It’s unusual. ] 02:45  
  


[ What is? ] 02:45

  
[ Not having you around. ] 02:46

[ I really did enjoy our night together, you know. ] 02:47

  
[ So you said. ] 02:49

[ I’d like to do that again, when I come back. ] 02:50

[ If you’re up for that? ] 02:50

  
[ I’ll have to see. ] 02:51

  
[ Of course. ] 02:51

[ How was your day? ] 02:51

  
[ Fine. Soap’s been very helpful. ] 02:52

  
[ I’m sure. Been on your own yet? ] 02:53

  
[ I have. ] 02:53

  
[ How’d you find it? ] 02:54

  
~~[ Would’ve been better with you there. ]~~

[ Fine. I managed. ] 02:55

  
[ I was wondering if I could call you tomorrow?   
Might have to head into the field. Could do  
with some words of encouragement. ]   
02:56

  
[ I’m working then, so I’ll have to see. ] 02:57

  
[ Right. ] 02:57

[ I’ll let you get some rest and try to catch you tomorrow. ] 02:57

[ Sleep well, Bug. ] 02:58

  
[ Be careful, Simon. Stay safe. ] 02:58

  
[ Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me. ] 02:59

  
[ Goodnight, Simon. ] 02:59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how long do you think roach is going to be able to give simon the cold-shoulder?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly shorter chapter this time, but I live for Ghost/Roach dialogue okay.

At lunch the following day, Roach decided to stay inside the pub and seated himself at a bar table where he hid away and ate his food. With time remaining until the end of his break, he tugged out his journal from his pack and placed it onto the surface – glancing around the room to ensure no one was being nosy before opening it. He’d noticed Soap had something similar, a place to write and sketch out thoughts that could be shut away in a heartbeat then reflected on later. It comforted him, knowing he wasn’t alone in doing that. People he used to spend time with often sought to tease him; they’d take the journal and attempt to find juicy secrets. However, it wasn’t that kind of journal. Past tense being important, because since having moved he didn’t have anyone other than Soap and Simon to talk to – and he couldn’t risk contaminating the relationship he had with each bloke by talking about one to the other.

Inside the journal, he’d been working on little sketches – mostly of Ghost and Simon, though Soap featured occasionally. His work was no where near as good as the Scot’s, and he internally denied that he’d been putting more effort into his drawings of Simon than he had any of his others, even though he had. More than anything, he _wrote_ , noting down things he’d seen – from expressions to changes in tone as well as general events of the day and how they made him feel.

During his free time, he added to one of his sketches of Simon. Well, it was his shoulders, neck and the lower section of his face with the mask balanced on his nose. Most of the detail was in the jaw, perfecting the stubble and the vague, smug twist in his lips. Even on paper he was handsome. He wondered what the other would think, if he knew Roach was drawing him.

From his pocket, his phone started to buzz. Roach fumbled around and brought the device out. He stared at the screen, butterflies frantic in his stomach and for a moment he thought he was going to vomit.

**UNKNOWN NUMBER.**

There was no picture.  
  


His eyes flicked between the accept and decline buttons.

“You alright, mate?” Soap asked, passing by the table, prompting Roach to jerk – phone clattering onto the surface as he snatched up his journal and shoved it back into his pack. “You look pale.”

“Fine…” Roach muttered. “I’m fine I – I’m gonna get some fresh air. Be right back.”

The Scot’s brows furrowed with concern at his friend’s jumpy state. “Right, well… don’t bloody pass out on me, alright?”

He rushed towards the back door, melting against it once it was closed behind him. The cool afternoon breeze made his knees weak, or perhaps it was the promise of hearing Simon’s voice. He clutched the phone in his hand and made his way over to his car, clambering into the passenger side for privacy. He could’ve ignored it – he’d told Simon he’d be working. Yet there he was, desperately making time for the other.

“Simon?” an impulsive decision, he tapped accept.

“Thought you weren’t gonna answer for a second there,” Simon’s voice rumbled through the quiet and Roach frowned to himself. He’d forgotten how warm it made him feel, how safe the air about Simon was. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His mind flicked back to the pistol he found in the drawer.

“So did I.”

“How are you?”

Roach’s tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth, deliberating. He didn’t know whether to be short or friendly. Which did Simon deserve? Sure, he was an arsehole for… vanishing like he had. But from what Sanderson had gathered, he needed more friends than enemies. “I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

Fuck. What he would give to have the man there, beside him. To inhale his scent, feel his presence. Did he miss him? _Definitely_. Especially after their evening at the pub, Simon had started to open up to him. He missed their shared banter, the petty criticisms, the praise. He _missed_ him. “It’s quiet here, without you around.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” There was a familiar smugness in Simon’s tone, and it was as easy as that for Roach to feel like everything was normal.

“Believe it or not, I’m not a huge talker.”

“Like I said, I don’t believe it.”

“I… enjoy talking t’ _you_ ,” Roach admitted.

Simon seemed to pause. “Yeah?”

“More so than… most people.”

“I’m honoured,” Simon said, fondly teasing.

Roach found himself smiling, a slight curve gradually forming at the corner of his lips. “You should be.”

“Soap’s been feeding your ego, I see.”

“No, I’m a confident guy anyway, when _certain people_ aren’t putting me down all the time.”

“Builds character,” Simon countered. “I’d like t’ meet this _confident Roach_ , howev’a.”

“You have to stick around for long enough,” Roach cut back, biting his tongue immediately after – regretful when he heard Simon sigh.

“You got much planned this week?”

“Not really. Soap mentioned going out for drinks… since he couldn’t come with us before. Maybe drag Price along too.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

Roach tapped at his thigh thoughtfully. “Never been much of one for going out places… you know, late night drinking.”

“Everybody has their tastes.”

“People often want to go home with you. I’m not really… into that.”

“Not a one-night stand kinda guy, Roach?”

Eyes widened and Roach bit his lip. “I prefer consistency.”

“Thought you liked unpredictable?”

He chuckled, attempting to ignore the way his cheeks warmed. “You got me there.”

“Could always hook up with Monika. She couldn’t take her eyes off ya.”

“Who? Oh – I remember. I uh – I don’t know.” He wasn’t interested in meeting other people, at least not nearly as interested as he was in getting to know Simon better. Besides, women didn’t catch his attention nearly as much as men did. Even then, he wasn’t overly interested in being with anyone he didn’t know well. “I’m not really looking for… _that_.”

“Huh,” Simon’s voice seemed to grow softer the longer they spoke. “Starting t’ sound like a bit of a heartbreaker, Roach.”

“Not intentionally. I just… I prefer to have some kinda emotional connection I guess?”

“I get’cha. You like y’ morning kisses, is what you’re sayin’.”

Roach snorted. “Shut up, that’s – I mean sure but that’s not –”

“And t’ think I didn’t even make you breakfast before I left.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely not a candidate,” Gary grinned to himself. The conversation was making him giddy, his index finger pressed to his bottom lip and nail gently positioned between his teeth.

“Ouch. That mean I’m out of the running?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were flirting with me.” Sanderson blinked, the words parting from him mostly subconscious, leaving him surprised at himself. He was hoping for a laugh, for some kind of blunt humiliation.

Instead, Simon’s tone became heavy, husky – something about it causing Gary to shift in his seat, a tingle between his thighs. “ _Can’t blame a guy f’ trying_.”

It was horrifying, the way his mouth became dry and his expression contorted into that of panic. How had they gotten here? _What was happening_? Roach cleared his throat and attempted to ignore the shiver threatening to run up his spine. “You uh – you mentioned you were… going into the field.”

There was a silent acceptance on Simon’s end, that Gary wanted to change the topic. “I did.”

“Can you say anything about it?”

“Not much. We got the recon intel we needed – able t’ do what we came here to.”

“Is it… dangerous?” Of course it was, Roach was no idiot. He wanted to join the military himself, he knew special forces got up to all kinds of extreme shit. But he wanted to hear how Simon viewed it.

“Could be.”

“Simon…”

“Told you not t’ worry, Bug.”

“Someone has to.”

“I’m gonna let you get back t’ work,” Simon breathed, sound in the background suggesting he was preparing to go. “Was good t’ hear your voice, Roach.”

“Yours too.”

“Take care’a those wankers while I’m gone, won’t you? And _yourself_.”

“Be careful, Simon.”

“Bye, Bug.”

The call ended and Roach found himself staring out of the windscreen – watching people walk by. He glanced at the time on his phone and remembered Soap was probably wondering whether he was alright. Stepping back out into the fresh air, Gary became aware of how heated he felt when the chill met his flesh. Gulping, he gave himself a moment to calm down, shaking his hands a few times after dropping his phone into his pocket and then re-entered the pub.

“Sorry about that – had a moment,” he apologized.

“Don’t apologize, mate, can I do anything for you?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Thanks though…”

“Take it easy and keep hydrated, yeah?”

“Yeah, Soap. Like I said, I’ll be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> turn's out he's not so great at the cold-shoulder thing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: there is nsfw content in this chapter.

It was closing in on 10pm and Gary was waiting for Soap and Price to appear in the cab they’d said they would hire. Tomorrow was his day off, and Soap wanted to make up for not being able to attend the previous meeting. Price had agreed to come because, as usual, they’d already intended to go out but didn’t feel right leaving Roach alone.

He’d decided to slip on his black leather jacket with a maroon t-shirt underneath, along with the same black jeans he wore out with Simon and some boots to match his t-shirt. He left his hair alone, other than having washed and dried it. Admittedly, he looked _good_ , though that wasn’t how he felt.

“Look at you,” he imagined Simon saying. “Who’re _you_ trying to impress?”

Gary debated taking a picture to send to him; but realized that could be a shitty thing to do. He didn’t want to make Simon feel left out or forgotten. Besides, days had passed since he’d last spoken to him. It’d be weird –

He shook his head. “Don’t think about him tonight,” he told himself. They weren’t heading out for any specific reason other than drinks and a good time together, but Gary knew he would no doubt feel uncomfortable at some point due to Soap and Price being the lovebirds they were. At least if Simon were there they could make jokes about it together. Hell, maybe even share a drunken dance. _What happened to not thinking about him?_

Outside, a car door was shut and Roach rose from where he was perched in anticipation. His bell rang and he opened the door, greeting Soap with a smile.

“There he is!” Soap exclaimed, appearing to have already had a drink or two.

“Here I am,” Gary nodded, patting at his pockets to make sure he had his phone, keys and wallet. “Where’s Price?”

“In the cab.”

“Nice! Okay, I think I’m good to go.” Roach stepped out beside Soap and fiddled with the lock, testing to make sure it was stuck. Satisfied, he turned and followed the Scot down the path and into the waiting vehicle. In the furthest seat sat Price, who gave him a wave.

“You alright, mate?” The Sergeant asked. Gary wondered if he’d make any off-duty arrests tonight. It was his first time going drinking with an officer and Price had brought up having to arrest someone on New Year’s Eve while he was with Soap.

“Yeah, thanks. Yourself?” He grunted, climbing into his seat once Soap had strapped himself in.

“Good, lad, I’m good.”

“Only good?” Soap scoffed. “I’ll remember that.”

Price smirked at his partner, delivering a soft kiss to his lips. “Perfect, with you here.”

“Right back at you,” Soap rumbled, apparently struggling to keep his hands to himself during this interaction.

“Where’a we headed?” Gary inquired, working to avoid showing his discomfort. Price and Soap were precious, _made for each other_. However, Sanderson had never been much of one to enjoy third wheeling, and without Simon around, that was how it felt.

“There’s this bar called The Jagged Ox, they have club nights ‘n’ shite. A mate’a mine works there,” Soap stated.

“Can’t wait.”

“You lookin’ f’ somethin’ other than drinks t’night?” Soap nudged Gary’s leather-clad bicep.

“What do you mean?”

“Y’ look _fetching_ , if you don’t mind me sayin’ Gary, fancyin’ yourself some company tonight?”

Roach’s brows raised. “No! I mean – probably not.”

Soap grinned, a devious sparkle in his eyes and Gary found himself debating whether this was a good idea. “Right-o, mate. Okay, we’re ready!” He called to the driver.

It was too late to turn back now.

* * *

Upon pulling up to the place, Gary noticed there were lights blinking from colour to colour inside, a blinking sign hanging up outside with THE JAGGED OX written in a gorgeous shade of blue. There were a significant number of people entering and exiting, some making out in the cold and others taking a smoke break.

They exited the vehicle, once Price had paid for the ride, and made their way towards their destination. Music was playing, not deafening which he appreciated, and the energy was admittedly exciting. “You ever been here before?” Gary called out.

“Aye, here and there. Price hasn’t been here before either though, so don’t worry,” Soap reassured.

Entering the bar, Gary was met with a variety of different ages – though no one looked younger than at least twenty-six. He wondered whether, because it wasn’t _only_ a club, youngsters were discouraged from coming. They made their way over to seats at the bar and Soap ordered the first round of beers.

“How you finding The Barracks then, Gary?” Price questioned, taking a sip of his drink.

“Great!” He replied, voice slightly raised over the music. “Yeah, finally getting the hang of things.”

“He’s a bloody natural,” Soap added.

Roach shook his head. “Hey, you taught me what I need to know. I’d be clueless otherwise.”

“I can’t give you a raise, Roach, stop kissin’ my arse.”

They laughed together, the atmosphere already producing a noticeable buzz.

“You new to Hereford?” Soap took a swig from his glass.

“I am,” Roach said. “Very new, actually. Still finding my footing.”

“Ah, you’ll get there!”

* * *

A few drinks later and Soap was pleading for Price to follow him onto the dancefloor; Arctic Monkeys’ ‘Do I Wanna Know?’ pumping through the speakers. Eventually, Price was lured away – leaving Gary to sit, watch and drink by himself. He wasn’t one to approach people, and certainly didn’t have it in himself to dance alone, unless he’d had a ridiculous amount of alcohol in his system.

It was past 11pm by now, maybe getting close to midnight, with people growing more drunk with every ten minutes that went by. Gary wondered how long the lads intended to stay, insecurities creeping in – whether they would leave without him or even forget he came _with_ them.

“Small world,” somebody said over his shoulder.

Blinking, Gary turned to see who was addressing him. She was familiar, wavy dark hair tied in a pony tail and piercing, honey eyes. There was a ring through her right nostril and she wore a strappy, glittery top that revealed a sleeve of floral tattoos up her left arm. A beautiful woman, truly, Roach found himself uncertain of what to say – primarily because he couldn’t quite recall her name. “It’s… Monika, right?” He wouldn’t have, had Simon not been the one to say it.

“It is!” She seemed impressed. “And you’re Gary.”

Simon must’ve told her. “I am.”

“How come you’re here?”

“Lads brought me along…” Gary said, nodding in the direction of Soap and Price, who were in each other’s arms and kissing deeply.

“And left you alone at the bar?” Monika prodded. “I must be lucky.”

“Didn’t fancy dancing with them. Brought it on myself, really,” he tried to joke.

“So what are the chances you’d fancy dancing with _me_ , instead?”

Mid-gulp of beer, Roach almost choked – holding himself together, barely. “Is that a pickup line?”

“ _Maybe_. Did it work?”

Simon had mentioned Monika had thought Gary was cute. He thought about the way she’d watched him from behind the bar. His palms were sweating, feeling pressured. “Sure,” he smiled, rising from his stool.

Giggling, Monika took him by the hand and led him onto the floor before proceeding to wrap her arms around his shoulders. He didn’t know what song they were dancing to, if you could even call it that. It was more like swaying, the sudden touch of a stranger bringing more stress to him than ease. Sure, Monika was stunning, but Gary rarely, if ever, felt physically attracted to someone at first glance. It took much more time, attention to detail…

He thought about how things would be if Simon were here. He’d likely tell him to go for it, right? Then again, Gary didn’t know if he’d feel comfortable watching the Brit dancing with… _anyone_. Making out with random people… He tried to deny that he’d hate seeing the man leave with anyone that _wasn’t_ Sanderson, but the truth was that he _would_ hate it. They’d have a blast in this type of environment, he was sure. Hands on each other’s hips, slowly swaying, their faces inches apart and Simon’s hot breath on him… He felt himself growing warmer at the thought, mind drifting.

He wondered what would come after, whether they’d go home together – like before. Whether they’d pass out, or if things would escalate, with Simon lingering close… He thought about how he could’ve closed the distance. About how Simon could’ve pushed him up against the wall and buried his face in Gary’s neck. Hands desperately searching each other’s bodies, a hot kiss that fueled every motion, electricity between them and Simon could’ve scooped him up and carried him away…

“Hey,” Monika gently nudged him, though Roach was so buried in his mind he jolted. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…” He said breathlessly. “I’m fine… Sorry.”

“One drink too many, perhaps,” she smirked, brushing it off.

He attempted to chuckle, to follow her lead and pretend nothing had happened but the images had burned themselves into his brain. Monika moved, catching Gary’s focus in time to see she was moving in for a kiss. His gut jumped and he turned his head, allowing her to meet his cheek instead. “I don’t – I don’t think I’m up for this, Monika…”

She awkwardly shifted, nodding. “That’s okay, that was forward of me I didn’t mean to – we can just keep dancing?”

Gary hesitantly shook his head. “I need some fresh air… You look stunning, though. I hope you have a good evening.”

“Gary…” She breathed as he pulled away but didn’t try to follow him as he slipped past numerous bodies and out into the fresh air. Well, as fresh as cigarette smoke could be. There was no time for him to compose himself, however, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was probably Soap, wondering where he’d gone. He ran a hand through his hair, pausing midway upon reading the name.  
  


NEW MESSAGE.  
 **UNKNOWN NUMBER.**

[ You awake? ]

  
“Shit,” he exhaled, jumping when someone barged past him. His anxiety was quickly rising, head spinning as he pressed his back to the wall to calm himself. He unlocked his phone and opened the message.

[ You awake? ] 23:57

  
[ Yeah. You need something? ] 23:57

  
Gary waited, watching his phone for a new message to pop up when it unexpectedly started to ring. Music was loud in the background, even outside, and the chatter of strangers filled any leftover quiet. He tapped accept and raised the phone to his ear, straining to hear. “Hey.”

It took a few seconds for Simon to say anything. “Not interrupting, am I?”

“Hardly,” Gary denied. There was a sense of relief in his tone, he was truthfully glad to hear Simon’s voice.

“Where are you?”

“Some bar… Soap and Price took me out for some drinks.”

“So I _am_ interrupting.”

“You’re _really_ not,” Gary stressed. “Soap’s currently down Price’s throat on the dancefloor so…”

“I see,” Simon hummed. “Are _you_ having a good time?”

“Here and there. Would be if you were here with me.” It slipped out, a subconscious thought that his buzzing mind didn’t filter. “So I’m not… sat alone I mean.”

“Nobody catch your eye?”

Roach chuckled, an embarrassed sound more than anything. “Actually, Monika’s here.”

“Ah,” Simon said knowingly. “She made a move yet?”

“Oh, _yeah_. Didn’t hold back.” Roach could hear rustling on the other end.

“You going home with her?”

“No!” Roach croaked. “No… no I – like I said, I’m not looking for _that_. Besides, kind of a turn-off being called _cute_.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever _met_ a bloke to ‘ave _turned down_ getting laid,” Simon said.

Roach sighed. “Guess I’m one of a kind.”

“You don’t ‘ave t’ tell _me_.”

“Don’t be a dick…”

“I’m not. I’m actually tryin’a compliment you, Bug.”

“You? Compliment _me_? Maybe I _have_ had too much to drink.”

“Who’s bein’ a dick now?” Simon retorted.

Roach smiled to himself. “Well, thank you, I guess. Did you um – _you_ called; did you need something?”

“Right, just wanted t’ let you know things went off without a hitch.”

“That’s great news, Simon. Are you pleased?” He hadn’t contacted Soap, that he knew of. Had he phoned Roach purely to let _him_ know?

“Yeh. Few close calls… nothing major.”

“Nothing _major_?” Roach’s expression softened, worry bleeding in.

“It’s nothing.”

“ _Are you injured?_ ”

Simon huffed at the question. “ _No_. Got nicked on the arm but it’s fine.”

“Shit. Are you sure? Have you had it checked?”

“You _don’t_ need t’ worry, Roach.”

“I’ll worry if I want to,” he told him firmly, scowling at one of the smokers that nosily looked his way.

Simon could be heard chuckling to himself. “How long you out for?”

“‘til the lads are ready t’ go back, I guess.”

“What are you gonna do in the mean time?”

“If I’m being honest, I’m tempted to get my own cab back,” Roach said tiredly. “What time is it, where you are?”

“Doesn’t matter. I can keep you company, if you want? While you wait.”

“I don’t wanna keep you up…”

“It’s fine, Bug,” Simon pressed. “Let the lads know you’re off.”

“Can you – maybe call me back in a few minutes?”

“Sure thing.”

“Thanks, Simon.”

Roach ended the call, leaving Simon to free a cigarette and light it. He took a puff, sighing tendrils of smoke into the dry air. Would returning make this more complicated? He’d have to face Roach, would have to see the way he shied away from compliments and that daring glimmer he often had in his eyes. Realistically, that was all he wanted. To be back by the other’s side, to feel his warmth. To better explain himself…

He treasured talking to him. Fixated in the moment, they could talk for hours – it’d already been proven.

Five minutes had passed when Simon pressed dial a second time. He thought about how Roach had turned down Monika, how he’d explained he wasn’t looking for _that_. Whatever _that_ was. Sex? A relationship? A _woman_? Simon bit his lip, ignoring the relief he felt, knowing Gary would be sleeping with _only_ himself tonight. Had the Lieutenant been there, he’d have kept his mate company. Maybe even… invited him back like before. It’d been comforting at the time, knowing Roach was next door to him. Maybe, if it ever happened again, he could convince him to at least share his bed. Was that taking it too far? Would he coax Gary into sleeping with him, only to ignore him the next day? He felt Ghost surging, defence mechanisms activating – he was better at pushing people _away_. It kept him safe.

“Cab is on the way,” Roach answered. His voice sounded heavy, tired and raspy. “Soap and Price are staying for a little longer.”

“You worry about yourself, Bug. You even capable’a doin’ that?”

“Oh, I worry about _everything_ ,” Roach smirked.

“I know you do.”

“How’s your arm?”

“Might have you kiss it better, when I’m back,” Simon rumbled, taking another drag of his cig.

“Don’t test me, I’ll do it.”

Simon gave a gruff laugh. “Then I suppose I’ve got somethin’ t’ look forward to.”

He drew his lower lip between his teeth. “When _will_ you be coming back?”

“You gonna throw me a welcome party?”

Roach grinned. “Damn, you ruined the surprise.”

“Long as _you’re_ there…” Simon began, clearing his throat. “You all dolled up t’night?”

“I wouldn’t call it that.” Roach made his way through the crowd and to the pavement in order to spot when his cab was arriving. Up the road, he could see it approaching.

“Oh come on, don’t sell yourself short.”

“You can’t even see me,” Roach argued. His cab pulled up to the curb and he opened the door, climbing onto one of the back seats.

“You take any photos?”

“Hang on, Simon, the cab’s here… give me one sec.” He lowered the phone, met the driver’s gaze and gave him the destination. Strapping himself in, he raised the phone back to his ear. “Sorry about that, what did you say?”

“I said did you take any photos?”

“Of what?”

“Yourself, Roach. Or did Soap take any of you?”

Sanderson arched a brow, making an effort to keep his voice down so the driver didn’t overhear him. “You want a _photo_ of me?”

“Wanna see what you look like. There something wrong with that?”

“You _know_ what I look like, you plonker.”

“C’mon, Roach, ‘s been a while since I last saw you.”

“Fine, _fine_ … Yeah, Soap took some. I’ll send one when I get home.”

“Don’t forget.”

“I don’t think you’ll let me,” Roach pointed out. “What’re you up to?”

“Havin’ a smoke…”

Gary tutted.

“Don’t gimme that. You not a smoker?”

“I used to be,” he admitted. “Socially… I stopped a few years back.”

“Any reason?” Simon asked.

“Made me feel like shit in the long run.”

Simon snickered. “Yeah…”

“You ever tried giving up?”

“Nope. Smoking was a handed down thing in my family. It’s a habit ‘n’ a fuckin’ half.”

“That it is,” he agreed. “Who knows, maybe I can help you to.”

“Sounds like that’d be a waste of _your_ time, t’ me.”

“Maybe so, but there’s nothing attractive about gunky lungs.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Simon trailed off. “You back in tomorrow?”

“No, god no, I have the day off.”

“Anything planned?”

Roach looked out the window, searching his current location – he wouldn’t have a clue whether they were down the road from his place or several minutes away. “Nothing yet.”

“I was thinkin’… when I get back, we could do somethin’, maybe?”

“That’s… yeah, Simon, I’d like that. Drinks again?”

Riley huffed with amusement. “Reckon you’ve ‘ad enough alcohol for a while, Bug. I was thinking somethin’ more like… me showin’ you around Hereford?”

Gary paused, considering the suggestion. A smile tugged at his mouth, heart jumping. Simon wanted to _show him around_? “I would love that!”

“Yeh?” Simon dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his boot. “Details when I’m back, then.”

“I look forward to it. Hey, you never said when you’d be back. You keeping it a secret?”

“Couple days, maybe. Don’t like makin’ promises. Can’t predict how shit will unfold, here.”

The cab came to a stop and the driver looked at him expectantly. Gary could see his apartment. “One sec, Simon.” He snatched his wallet from his pocket. “How much do I owe you, mate?”

The money was exchanged and Roach was quick to check he had everything before hopping out onto the pavement. “Thanks,” he waved to the driver, who moved off once Sanderson was clear. He put the phone back as he approached his door, using his free hand to search for his keys and started unlocking it. “Okay, sorry again, you have my _full_ attention, now.” The door opened and he stepped inside, locking it behind him.

“That sounds promising.”

“The different tiers of _my company_ ,” Roach joked, making his way to his room where he all but flopped back onto his bed.

“You home?”

“I am on my bed, taking my socks off as we speak.”

Simon crossed his arms, bracing himself from the night’s chill. He couldn’t talk inside without waking the others up. “You don’t sleep with ‘em on?”

“Fuck no,” Roach grimaced. “D’ you?”

“ _Never_.”

The two shared a breathy chuckle.

“What’s your plan now, then?” Simon queried.

“Probably eat some leftovers and pass out.” Roach went quiet for a moment, rolled his eyes and then shook his head – it was a trick question. “But not before I send you that _picture_.”

“ _Attaboy_.”

Simon’s praise sent a shiver down Gary’s spine. “I don’t see why you want one – I look ridiculous in _all_ of them.”

“All the more reason f’ me t’ see.”

Sighing, Gary put Simon on speaker and started scrolling through his photo album. Half of the images he didn’t even remember Soap taking – others clearly having been sneakily taken. There were quite a few cute ones of Soap and Price, a lot of Price on his own… Soap clearly got carried away. He’d probably want them sent over to him at some point. One photo of himself caught his eye. He wasn’t posing in it, in fact, he didn’t appear to have noticed it being taken. His hair was messy, skin glistening from the heat and his cheeks slightly reddened from the alcohol. His stubble emphasized his features, catching the light just right – he would have to thank Soap for this later. He selected it and hesitated before sending it over. “ _There_. Isn’t that gonna cost me a bloody fortune?”

Simon’s phone pinged, and his lips quirked. “ _I’ll cover it_ ,” he asserted. “Can’t look at it while I’m on a call.”

“Well I’m probably gonna pass out soon anyway, so I think I’ll leave you to it. Thanks, Simon… for keeping me company. Really, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Anytime, Bug. Thanks f’ the picture.”

“Hah, savour it.”

“Oh I will.”

Roach rubbed at his eyes, resting his head against his bed and positioned the phone beside him – still on speaker. _Oh I will_. Gary swallowed, composing himself. “Are you gonna get some sleep now?”

“I’ll probably shower, first.”

It got worse, images of Simon showering flashed through his mind and he had to sit up and distract himself. Images of water dripping down Simon’s bare, muscular back, of soft eyes watching him through the steam, eyes he had yet to _see_. “Okay… Well, enjoy _that_ … Uh – I’ll speak to you again soon…”

“Sleep well, Bug.”

“Stay safe, _Simon_.”

* * *

The Lieutenant tended to shower during times when the other men were either sleeping or out of his way. It meant he could remain undisturbed and be able to have his mask off without anyone seeing him.

Simon sat on the changing bench, phone in hand. He’d been scrutinizing the photo of Roach for some time, now. Couldn’t draw himself away from it. There was a rising frustration in him, that he couldn’t be there to withhold the sight in person. To say things, do things that’d make the other nervously squirm like he did. Finally, Simon turned the screen off and placed the device beside him. He started to strip off, discarding his clothes on the spot where he’d previously been sat and then, once bare, tucked his phone under the pile to avoid it being exposed to the steam.

The room was large, tiles an off-white shade with no cubicles in sight – only showers with a small space between each one. The floor was disgusting, but it was nothing he wasn’t used to. He switched the shower on, grunting as the cold-water bit into his flesh, arm stinging. It took a few moments to heat up, at least enough to keep him from shivering. Ducking beneath the spray, Simon rubbed at his hair, washing out all the sand and dirt that seemed to find its way into every fucking crevasse on his body. Next, he used his a bar of soap he’d brought over from the bench and proceeded to clean himself – making sure to give his face a scrub after having worn the mask for the majority of the day. The soap was carried back to his belongings and placed beside them before he returned to his chosen shower. Simon stood, savouring the warmth dripping down his neck and shoulders, tilting his chin up and closing his eyes.

Gradually, his calloused hand found its way to his thigh, where it lingered for a beat. Then, he grasped himself, enveloping his length in his hand with a guttural grunt. It’d been a while since he’d felt the need to touch himself, often resorting to hooking up with random strangers – though rarely with the intention to satisfy himself or even them. It was a get-away, a quick way to lift his mood and distract him from himself. This time, however, he _needed_ it. Wanted the contact. His hand slowly massaged while his thoughts redirected themselves towards imagining the photo Roach had sent him. He gritted his teeth, hand working back and forth, the friction causing him to gently gasp every so often.

His free hand chose to explore, allowing himself the satisfaction which he rarely did. It’d been on his mind a lot lately, that Roach did things to him. Made him feel ways no one else had been able to replicate; not even _close_. Simon treasured it, savoured every single second – whether it be by encouraging certain behaviours or simply watching them take place. Sanderson was stunning, unbelievably easy on the eyes, but his personality, his loyalty was what had managed to soften Ghost’s protective walls. Every time they spoke, Simon couldn’t quite believe it. That the other had stuck around for this long. Had been patient, despite the Lieutenant having _ditched_ him without a word.

“Fuck,” he hummed, picturing Roach’s face red and slick with sweat beneath him, lips parted and gasping for air as Simon fucked him. Imagined him there, in the shower with him, his back pressed to the wall and legs wrapped around his waist. Imagined his face buried in Roach’s neck, drawing delightful sounds from him and making him plead for _more_.

Simon’s arm rose and he pressed his forearm against the wall. He rested his forehead on it, eyes tightly sealed to shut out his current deployment. He was with Roach, in his mind, thrusting into his hand as a substitute. “ _Fuck_ , Bug,” he purred breathlessly, tightening his grip. “ _Fuckin’ ‘ell_ , so good, Darlin’, feels so good…”

He wondered what Roach would say back. Whether he was the dirty talking type, or if he’d desperately try to keep quiet, mewling every now and again. Wondered if he’d fight for dominance or if he was willingly submissive, whether he liked things gentle and slow or rough and passionate – maybe a mix of both? “Fuckin’ perfect…” He whispered. Simon thought about how they could fuck until they fell asleep, and then in the morning they’d kiss for ages, maybe even give each other a cheeky hand-job before work…

**_Work_** … The idea had him jerking. The possibilities were endless, the teasing touches and playful taunting, undressing each other with their eyes and making crude comments that’d make Roach struggle not to moan. The make out sessions in the staff toilets, Roach sitting in his lap and grinding… Going over to one of their places after a stressful day and fucking around the apartment, claiming space after space so that anytime Roach revisited them, Simon could remind him and watch him writhe. “I’m there, Sweet’eart, _fucking_ there…”

A few final strokes had him shaking, leaning painfully against his arm as he rode out his finish. Only then did his eyes open, watching his mess flow down the stained, dirty drain. Simon’s breathing was ragged as he came down from his high. He waited a minute or two before washing himself down a second time. The shower was switched off and he made his way over to his towel which he wrapped around his lower half. Something buzzed. The Lieutenant dried his hands off and then searched through his dirty clothes to find his phone, the screen bright.  
  


NEW MESSAGE.  
 **ROACH.**

[ What did you think? ]   
  


Simon’s lips curved into a tired smile, husky chuckling leaving him as he opened the phone. He typed one word, then set the device aside and started drying himself off. He needed to catch some sleep, they would have to be bright eyed and bushy tailed soon.

[ Gorgeous. ] 05:14

* * *

Roach laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling – partially hopeful it’d lean down and swallow him whole. His day off was over, most of it spent putting things away and organizing his apartment, since he’d not had much time to settle in yet. He hadn’t heard from Simon since the last text he’d sent the night before – _gorgeous_ , and he hadn’t had the nerve to reply to it.

_Couple days, maybe_ , Simon had said when Roach asked him when he’d be coming back. Gary was having a predicament. What would he do, when Simon _did_ finally come back? Would they pretend it never happened? Would it be labelled as some kind of fling? What if Simon had been sleeping with other people while he was away? Not that he wouldn’t have had any right to… It was merely flirting, _teasing_. Nothing more than some _entertainment_. What if he was met with Ghost and not Simon? What if Simon made things extremely awkward and uncomfortable?

“You’re overthinking it,” he told himself. “Just go t’ sleep, worry about it when or _if_ it happens.”

_Told you not t’ worry, Bug_. Simon’s words played through his head, rich voice tormenting him.

“Shut up,” he said out-loud. “So _easy_ for _you_ t’ say.”

He’d spoken to Soap via text since their night out and reassured Soap that there were no hard feelings about him getting carried away with Price and leaving him at the bar. After all, he’d gone into it fully expecting the third wheel treatment. Who would he be to make a fuss about it? He was just glad at least someone in his life seemed to have their shit sorted out.

Even after the countless amount of time he’d spent talking to Simon, Roach was acutely aware that he knew next to nothing about him. Minor facts that weren’t useful – yet Simon knew a lot about _him_. He would have to remedy that and not get swept away by Riley’s distracting charm. He’d mentioned showing Gary around Hereford, which Sanderson thought would be a perfect opportunity to lightly interrogate him. Although with no stable information on when Simon would be back, let alone when the tour would _happen_ , his chances were looking slim.

Grumbling, Roach turned on his side and closed his eyes. He’d had enough of being patient. If sleep wouldn’t take him yet, he would _go_ to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for all the feedback so far! I don't reckon Simon's genuinely had a romantic interest before like this, so the fight with Ghost is real.


	9. Chapter 9

Roach pulled into the inn’s carpark and stopped in the space beside Soap’s bike. He’d grown familiar with it, comforted by the sight – it meant Soap was here, a friend, an ally. There was a second helmet strapped to it, and Roach guessed Soap had brought Ghost’s along, which he often did, in order to give Price a ride around. Did that mean the Scot intended to leave him for a while today? Maybe they had plans after work.

He stared at the entrance, wondering what today would hold. Roach made his way inside, placing his pack into the cubby under the bar.

“Roach!” Soap greeted, cleaning the surface. Sanderson blinked up at him, shocked he’d not noticed him standing there.

“You made me fucking jump,” he admitted, a grin breaking onto his lips.

“Sorry, mate,” Soap smirked, wiping away the last of the spray he’d used. “What’s got you so jumpy?”

“Nothing… I just didn’t sleep great last night.”

“Ah, that’s rubbish,” the Scot sympathized. “Welcome t’ take a nap at lunch, if you need it.”

Roach shrugged. “Might have to, I’ll see how I go. Thanks, mate.”

“I’m just nipping in the back for a sec, make yourself a coffee if y’ like.”

That wasn’t a bad idea, although Roach debated whether it was a _good_ idea to make his heart beat any faster than it had been lately. He located a mug and placed it under the coffee machine, a hand rising to press the necessary buttons. Behind him, he heard footsteps and assumed Soap had come back out into the bar area. “You end up getting home alright then, the other night?”

“That question meant f’ me?”

Roach froze, hand raised and eyes widening by the second. There was absolutely _no_ mistaking that voice. He didn’t know what to do, couldn’t figure out whether he’d imagined it or not. The discomfort he’d experience if he turned around to find no one there. Slowly, his head began to turn until he did a 180-degree shift and was indeed met with Ghost standing there, ominously watching him. It’d been a while since he’d seen the mask in full effect.

“Look like you’ve seen a Ghost, mate.”

Gary blinked; his lips uncooperative in the process of formulating words. “You’re… But… How? When? You’re _here_?” He was uncertain whether to be horrified or delighted because he hadn’t planned this interaction out in his head yet. _Worry about it when or if it happens_. Oh it was happening, alright! “You’re here!” He repeated.

“In the flesh.”

Why was he giving such blunt answers? Was the hell of endless, confusing riddles about to begin? “You said – you said a couple of days!”

“I said a couple of days, _maybe_.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were back?”

Ghost’s head tilted. “You not pleased t’ see me?”

Roach squinted. “Shut up, of course I am I just – I wasn’t –”

“No welcome party then, I take it?”

Gary snatched up the rag Soap had been using and launched it at the other, who caught the material with ease. While he was faced with the mask, Simon did indeed appear to be bleeding through. “You’re an arsehole,” he accused, tone soft. “I can’t believe you crept up on me like that. What a _dick_.”

Simon was grinning behind the mask, Roach could tell. “Have t’ maintain my reputation somehow.”

He wanted to hug him, to leap over the bar and yank him into a tight embrace. But he didn’t. “When did you get home?”

Ghost seated himself on one of the stools closest to the other. “Last night. It was late, barely got any sleep so Soap drove me in this morning.”

“Why didn’t you stay home?”

The Lieutenant shook his head. “I like t’ keep busy.” Roach looked just as good as he had in the photo he sent, if not better. He licked his lips behind his mask. A position readjustment of where his arms were resting prompted a short and _barely_ audible wince from Ghost, catching Roach’s attention.

Gary remembered Simon telling him he’d been nicked on the arm. _Might have you kiss it better, when I’m back_. “Your arm,” he breathed.

Ghost tensed. “What about it?”

“Which one was it?”

“ _Why_?”

Roach rounded the bar and closed the distance, causing Ghost to rise from his stool and loom over him. “Just _show_ me.”

A few moments of deliberation passed as Ghost studied Gary’s face. Then, he reached over to his left arm and cautiously tugged the short, black sleeve over his bicep to reveal a small, stitched wound.

“You needed stitches?” Roach asked softly, a hand hovering nearby which made Ghost uneasy. “Thought you said it was nothing.”

“It was. Tosser had _shit_ aim. Got lucky ‘n’ managed t’ _barely_ snag me.” His gaze observed every single movement Roach made, his voice growing more untamed as the other’s head slowly moved closer to the injury, lips pursed. “Roach – what’a you – _Roach_ ,” Ghost hissed, though he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

Gary’s lips ended up grazing the flesh right beside the wound, remaining there for a second. He heard Simon take a deep, ragged breath and then hold it in, as though exhaling would make him miss something. “ _Fuck_ , Roach…” he managed to whisper airily, helplessly watching as Gary carefully brought the sleeve back over the wound. His company took a few steps back away from him, chin raised confidently. Lips had parted and he’d started to heavily breathe again. “What –”

Behind Roach, a door opened and Soap appeared, snatching Ghost’s focus. “Ghost,” he called out. “Fancy emptyin’ the trash for me, mate? Bin men will be here shortly.”

“I can do it,” Roach volunteered, wasting no time in turning and leaving in search of the pub’s bins.

Ghost glanced from Soap to Roach and back to Soap, trying to piece together what the fuck had just happened.

“Too slow,” Soap joked. “Never seen someone so eager t’ handle garbage before. Ah well, there’s plenty more f’ you t’ be gettin’ on with, mate.”

A nod was given, encouraging Soap to return into the back, leaving Simon alone with his thoughts.

* * *

After that, Ghost kept his distance. Roach knew it would be deemed a power move, one that shifted both of their footing significantly. However, he wanted to make it clear to Simon that he wasn’t one to be taken lightly. Gary Sanderson could be fiery when he wanted to be.

Midway through the day, the Lieutenant stepped outside for a smoke break and Roach double checked with Soap if he could take a quick break himself, which Soap allowed. It took everything in him not to be smug as he exited into the carpark and located Ghost leaning up against a nearby wall with a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

Roach didn’t say a word, and instead took up the space beside the other. Ghost’s mask was pulled up over his nose.

A few beats of silence passed between them, until Simon glanced over. “What was that, earlier?”

Gary shrugged. “You said you wanted to meet the _confident Roach_.”

Simon’s lips twitched. “Does the _confident Roach_ want a fag?” He raised a hand, offering the box of cigarettes.

His eyes darted down and he squinted. “You’re a terrible influence.” His gaze lifted back to meet Riley’s.

Simon gave a throaty chuckle. “Never said I wasn’t.”

Challenge accepted; Roach turned on his side to face the other. “I don’t want a whole one. Pass me yours.”

Surprised by Roach’s request, he hesitated. The cigarette was handed over though, with Simon eagerly awaiting an outcome. Gary took it from his grasp and placed it to his own lips. A few puffs were masterfully taken, a former social smoker himself, Roach savoured the moment.

“Thought you didn’t smoke,” Simon remarked.

“I don’t. This is a one-off.”

“That takes a lot of self-restraint, I’m willing t’ bet.”

Roach took another puff and exhaled the smoke towards Ghost as he spoke. “When are you going to show me around Hereford?” The cigarette was passed back over.

Simon eyed it, ensuring to brush against Roach’s hand in order to take it back. He took a drag. “You’re still up for it?”

“Of course.”

“We’re not on the rota this Thursday.”

It was Monday. Two whole days before he could spend genuine quality time with Simon. Although they couldn’t go during their lunch hour, because it wouldn’t be long enough. “Thursday it is, then. What do I need to do?”

“ _Look pretty_ ,” Simon said smoothly, his lips threatening to give his satisfaction of the moment away. “Text me your address ‘n’ I’ll come pick you up.”

“On your bike?”

Ghost blinked. “That a problem?”

“I haven’t been on a bike before.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope,” Roach stated. “Not joking.”

“Huh… Well it’s easy. You just sit back ‘n’ hold on.”

“To what?”

“Me.”

Roach fought the urge to gulp. “Sounds easy enough.”

A smirk broke onto Simon’s features. “We’ll see.”

There was another pause, though their gazes didn’t break from one another. “Glad you’re back,” Roach informed softly, pushing himself away from the wall. He didn’t look back as he made his way back inside the pub. Once Gary was out of sight, Simon bit his lower lip and lolled his head back against the brickwork, grinning to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch Roach making Simon eat his own words. I like the idea that Roach is confident but often spends time with people who overpower that? So spending time with the lads brings him out of his shell a bit more.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if this chapter isn't a hell hole roller coaster then I don't know what it. be warned, this chapter contains nsfw content as well as violence and mentions of child death.

“You awake, Bug?”

Roach stirred from his slumber, eyelids flitting. “Hm?” Brows drew together, confused as he took in his surroundings. His room seemed somewhat distorted; things weren’t where they belonged. Dawn yawned through the window, birds were chirping outside and despite his initial uncertainty, it was blissful. He was on his side, warm duvet coating his form – safely wrapped away in the corner of his room. Surprise didn’t surge when an arm curled around his waist, bringing him closer to the form behind him. “Hey…”

Simon brought his mouth to Gary’s ear, breath hot as his hand explored the smaller man’s torso, tracing muscles and brushing through the hair there. “You sleep okay?”

“Amazing,” Gary sighed, tilting his head to one side – encouraging his company’s lips to wander. A gasp left him when they did, tongue running along his jaw and down his neck. “Want this every morning.”

“Lie on your stomach, Darlin’.”

Roach gave a soft groan. “Want t’ see your face… _kiss me_ …” When he tried to turn his head, he was gently turned over onto his front, chin resting on his pillow.

“Not yet,” Simon purred, positioning himself over the other. A finger teased its way down Gary’s spine, his lack of a t-shirt showing Simon every shudder and shiver.

His hips ground against the bedding beneath him, lips parting for him to gasp as Simon began nipping and licking at his shoulders, gradually making his way further down his back. “Please…”

Fingers hooked under his bottoms and started to peel them back, revealing the globes of his arse which Simon wasted no time peppering with kisses. “Gorgeous,” he breathed. “You’re so gorgeous, Bug.”

“Simon…” Gary pleaded, reaching behind him with a hand. One of Simon’s found its way onto Roach’s hidden abdomen and slipped under his pants, cupping him. A thumb teasingly stroked back and forth as he continued peeling his clothes back until he was bare from the knees up.

“Look at you… Spread your legs for me, Babe.”

He did as he was told, inching his legs apart for the other to get a better view, even tilting his hips in order to lift his arse in the air. “Like that?”

“Yeah, Bug, just like that… _fuck_.”

Gary bit his lip and leaned back, bringing himself to meet Simon’s hardened member. “Please, Simon…”

The Lieutenant rolled himself against one of Roach’s cheeks and then positioned his length to press against his entrance, teasing. “You want me, babe? You want _this_?” His other hand, the one enveloping Roach’s heat, tightened its hold.

He impatiently rocked his hips, enjoying the friction. Gary keened, reaching to grab at Simon’s arse. “I want you! Yes, I want you, _please_!”

Simon leaned down, mouth pressing to the other’s ear. “ _Gorgeous_.”

Roach jerked awake at the sound of his phone furiously buzzing on the table beside him. A groan left him, squinting at the morning light as he lifted his head. He was face down; his arms positioned beneath his pillow. It took a hot minute to register what had happened. “Oh, _fuck_ …” he choked at the realization that he was lying on top of his hard on. Gary pushed himself up, seating himself on the edge of his bed as he assessed his room – everything normal, unlike in his dream. “Shit.” He glanced down and grimaced, embarrassed by how obnoxiously horny he felt. This wasn’t something he experienced often, let alone wet dreams which _never_ fucking happened for him.

Clumsily, Sanderson reached for his phone which buzzed a second time. It was his day off, who was –

NEW MESSAGE.  
 **GHOST.**

[ I’ll be outside in about an hour, if you’re… ]  
  


Panic flared in his gut as he unlocked his phone to read the rest of the message.  
  


[ I’ll be outside in about an hour, if you’re still good for today? ] 10:01

  
“Oh _shit_!” He’d completely forgotten Simon was going to show him around Hereford today. Well, that wasn’t not true. He’d been ridiculously excited about it since they’d discussed it on Monday, however, his lack of rest had distorted him – not to _mention_ that fucking dream! It looked like he’d also forgotten to set his alarm, which was nothing new.  
  


[ Can’t wait. ] 10:02

  
With a reply sent, he discarded his phone on the bed and raced straight into his bathroom. The shower was flicked on to heat up while he undressed, carefully avoiding nudging his length which begged to be taken care of. Roach ignored his needs, uncomfortable with seeing his dream _through and through_. It’d be awful, going the day having denied himself – especially with Simon who’d no doubt draw those same feelings out at some point during the day, however, he didn’t think he’d be able to spend it with the other, knowing he’d _jacked off_ to the thought of him.

Thankfully, after his shower and a few minutes to calm himself, his arousal eased. He made himself a bowl of cereal and sat in silence as he ate it – nervous. How was he supposed to act natural today, after the things he’d just imagined?

The phone buzzed next to his bowl.  
  


[ Don’t spend too long on your hair, I’ve got you a helmet. ] 10:35

  
[ I never do. ] 10:35

  
[ I don’t believe you. ] 10:35

  
[ Okay, Simon. ] 10:36

  
Roach’s lips curved, shaking his head. As someone who genuinely didn’t spend a tonne of time on his appearance, Simon often complimented him to suggest he _had_. He was wearing a black t-shirt with a slightly puffy, camouflage jacket over it. His jeans matched his t-shirt, though they were upturned at the ankles to show off the paler inside material. He wore laced boots and avoided doing anything more with his hair than running a hand through it. Not that it was long enough to do much with anyway. Biting his lip, he eyed his watch, waiting for 11am to roll around.

When it did, he could make out the revving of what he assumed was Simon’s bike and collected his wallet and phone, slipping them into his pocket. He kept a hold of his keys and made his way outside, sparing a moment to take in what he could see. Simon was seated on his bike, parking up in order to collect the other – he hadn’t spotted him yet. He wore what appeared to be vaguely fitted, black cargo pants and boots that matched. A black hoodie was partially concealed by an army green jacket, the dark hood having been lazily tugged out from beneath it into view. Familiar skeleton gloves covered his hands, a pair of shades hanging at the neck of his hoodie and a black helmet over his head, which had the lower section of a skull printed onto the area beneath the visor.

He looked… _great_ , honestly. There was something enticingly mysterious about him. Roach hurried to lock his door, turning back to find Simon had finally noticed him. The other gestured for him to come over, which he did. Riley made no effort to hide that he was checking Gary out, even twirling a finger to sign for the other to do a spin. Roach did, nervously waiting for Simon to drink in every detail.

“Hey…” Gary greeted.

He noticed the visor was lifted a little, likely for Roach to be able to hear him better without having to reveal too much of himself, though it was darkened to prevent such. He had to admit, it did hurt that Simon hadn’t revealed his entire face yet, but he respected the other had boundaries. It would merely take patience. “ _Bug_ ,” Simon purred and it took everything in Roach to not be launched back to his dream. “You ready?”

“Yeah, where we headed first?”

“Don’t have a plan. Just thought we’d ride around.”

“Oh –”

“You were hoping for a plan?” Simon asked.

“No, no I – riding around is fine by me. I might struggle to hear you though…”

“Nah, we’ll be stoppin’ often. Don’t worry about that.”

“You said you have a helmet?”

“I did,” Simon confirmed and nodded behind him, to the back of his bike. Resting on the backseat was Roach’s spare helmet – a matte black texture with a transparent visor.

Gary picked it up, testing the weight in his hands. “How come you can see _my_ eyes but I can’t see yours?”

Riley chuckled, the sound muffled. He placed the helmet over Roach’s head from his seat, positioning it correctly and ensuring it was secured tightly enough. A few taps were given, then he locked the visor in place. “It’d be a _crime_ t’ hide your eyes.” He didn’t give Gary time to recover from his words, patting at the backseat. “Hop on.”

Roach hesitated, debating what the best way was to get on. Awkwardly, he raised and then lowered his leg, his form threatening to stumble a few times until Simon’s hand wrapped itself around Sanderson’s bicep – steadying him.

“You’re alright,” he said. “I won’t let you fall in the road.”

Rolling his eyes, Gary finally managed to seat himself behind the other, though at first he felt it was much too close and subtly shuffled back a few inches. “Thanks… what now?”

Simon turned his head so Roach could at least half hear him. He patted at his sides. “Hands here.”

“Okay…” He did as he was told, placing his bare hands onto the sides of Simon’s jacket, clutching tightly. “Like that?”

“Exactly. Now _don’t_ let go. Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Roach muttered.

The engine snarled to life and Simon positioned his hands on the handlebar. Within seconds, they were off. Gary was certain they were going faster than necessary at first but figured it was probably something Simon did all the time, though that didn’t keep him from releasing the driver’s jacket and instead, wrapping his arms around Simon’s torso, his hands melding – pressing against the Brit’s covered abdomen.

The action caused Simon to tense, though there was something in the way Gary could feel a smug air about him that made him think the entire stunt had been intentional. Nevertheless, he wouldn’t argue. It felt good, natural, to have his arms around Simon. Gary hadn’t experienced a rush like this in the past, the wind rippling his jacket and heart racing. If this was how the Brit started every day, he wondered what excitement the day would have in store for them.

The first stop was city centre. Hereford was steeped in history, old buildings occupying the streets. A quaint area, a side Roach hadn’t seen yet – since the line of apartments including his own had been fairly recently built. Simon pulled the bike into a parking space and knocked down the kickstand. “Helmet off, Bug, we’re goin’ for a walk.”

It was a struggle, since Simon had been the one to put it on and he felt foolish asking him to remove it. By the time he’d figured it out and pulled it over his head, the other had already removed his and in its place had stuck a black cap on and was in the process of slipping his shades on. It must’ve been a pain, to be so uptight about remaining concealed.

“Are we leaving these here?” Roach asked, gesturing to his helmet.

“Yeah, I’ve got a lock,” which was exactly what he produced from his pocket, connecting the two helmets together and then to the bike itself. “Can’t be gone too long, fucking nightmare when a tosser takes a shine to ‘em.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“This is the city centre. Short drive from your place, there’s plenty’a shops ‘n’ what not here f’ you t’ get your food or… whatever you’re looking t’ buy. We’re gonna have a walk around.”

“Sight-seeing,” Roach hummed.

“Only if _you_ walk in front’a me.”

Gary’s head snapped to the other, brows raised. “I can’t decide if that was smooth or cheesy.” He had to admit, it was always a pleasure to see that _charming smile_.

“Would you rather I stopped?”

“No…” Roach smirked.

“Good. C’mon, I’ve got shit t’ show you.”

* * *

He’d seen the centre, explored different routes and got comfortable with the set up. People seemed friendly enough, mostly keeping to themselves. Simon had treated him to a coffee, which he’d brought back to the bike. The taller man had cracked out and lit a cigarette while waiting for Roach to finish it. “Thanks again for this… I’m gonna have to find a way to repay you.”

Simon shook his head. “Free of charge, Bug.”

“But –”

“Least I can do. Alright?”

Gary gave a soft smile. “Hey, I meant to ask, how’s your arm doing?”

“Reckon that kiss did the trick.”

He scratched at the back of his head, taking a nervous sip of his coffee. “Worth bearing in mind,” Sanderson joked.

“Might have t’ put myself in the line of fire more often.”

Gary shot him an unamused glare. “You don’t get kisses for being an idiot.”

Simon’s tone dropped notably, head tilting. “Then what _would_ one have t’ do?”

“That’s classified.”

“Oh-ho,” Riley chortled, surprising Roach – as his laughter always did. “Is that so?” He took a step closer, blowing his cigarette smoke to the side. Gary could sense a devious energy about him, the other’s amused expression fading for something far more intense and the feelings he experienced this morning were slowly creeping back, pooling.

“Where are we heading next?”

Simon seemed to study him, was this all just a game? Some cat and mouse dance between them that had no conclusive end. He yearned to close the distance, to see the utter shock on Roach’s face at him wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him into a deep kiss. That’s what he wanted to do, more than anything. Pin Gary up against the nearby tree and make him regret these _games_. Another puff of his cigarette was taken, then he dropped and crushed it under his foot. “Get your helmet on and you’ll find out.”

Breaking eye contact, Roach waited for Simon to remove the lock and then pushed the helmet over his head – recalling how he’d gotten it off to secure it. Once again, by the time it was on, Simon had removed his cap and shades and was adjusting his own helmet. _He’ll show you when he’s ready_ , Roach mentally scolded himself. This time around, however, Gary didn’t waste any time in wrapping his arms around his driver.

“Ready?” Simon called out.

“Ready.”

* * *

“Shut up, I don’t believe you,” Roach snorted, plucking the flake from his ‘99’ ice-cream to take a bite of it. Simon had bought himself and Gary one, having stopped near a small park to enjoy the momentary sunshine overlooking the area.

“It’s true,” Riley insisted.

“So what did you tell him?”

“T’ shove the order up his arse.”

Roach almost choked. “Holy shit, Simon, how did you _not_ lose your job?”

He shrugged. “I’m good at what I do. Only so many of me out there.”

“That’s not true. There’s only _one_ of you.”

“ _Cute_. I meant – so many who can do what I do.”

Gary gave a nod of acknowledgement as he finished the flake and swept his tongue across his ice-cream. “Right. You ever think of life… without it?”

“Without it?” Simon repeated, glancing at Roach through his shades in time to catch the other taking a second lick. He swallowed, barely managing to avert his gaze. Truthfully, when he’d suggested getting ice-cream, he could hardly believe Roach agreed to it.

“Yeah, you know, one day you’ll have to find something else to –”

“I don’t think about that,” Riley said bluntly, cutting Gary off.

“But –”

“I _don’t_ think about _that_ ,” he repeated, firmer this time.

“Alright, alright. Sorry I brought it up. That mean you’re not interested in… having a family? Settling down or whatever?”

Simon tensed. “I had a family.” It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in having another one, but it wouldn’t be the same. No grandparents, no uncles or aunties, no cousins… He couldn’t comprehend meeting someone else’s family, either. Talk about feeling like a _total_ outcast.

Sanderson paused, thinking over his words _extremely_ carefully – conscious not to overstep. “Oh… did you – were you married? Kids?”

“I – not me, no.”

Roach’s brows furrowed. What had Simon been through? He recalled Soap’s words, ‘ _he lost pretty much everything_.’ What happened to his family? “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”

He seemed to be having an internal debate, or battle – more like, over whether to or _not_. “My brother got married…” He cleared his throat. “Had the cutest kid.”

“What’s his name? The kid?”

“Joseph.”

Roach gave a warm smile. “That’s a nice name.”

“Yeah, he was a bundle’a joy.” Gary noticed, despite the fond memories, Simon’s tone was flat and lacking any emotion. The use of _past tense_ gave him the chills.

The conversation shallowed for a short while after that, Roach pointing out the scenery and the creatures he could see. They talked about what a good day it’d been so far and Simon had even stressed that he’d enjoyed himself. A few jokes were shared, arms nudged and chuckles given.

“What’a your plans this evening?” Simon queried.

“Uh – nothing. That’s… I shouldn’t be that honest, should I?” Gary grinned. “Eh, it’s true though. I don’t have anything planned.”

“How would you feel about… _having_ plans?”

“What d’ you mean?”

Simon shifted, gaze scanning the other’s features – admiring him any chance he could get. “Wondered if you’d be interested in joining me f’ food t’night?”

Gary blinked, caught off-guard by the suggestion. “I –”

“Have a think about it, if you want.”

“I don’t need to,” he said. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Gary agreed, looking away at a nearby red post box. “I was expecting this day to fly by, you know,” he sighed.

“Was it that boring?”

“ _God_ , no! But they always say about time flying by when you’re having fun… I should say I was worried it’d fly by.”

“Worried?”

“I’ve really enjoyed myself so far. I’m glad it’s not over yet.”

That brought a smile to Simon’s face, lips curving and teeth even peeking through. “Had _me_ worried there for a second.”

“I have my moments but I’m not cruel,” Gary jested.

Behind them in the park, a child seemed to have fallen over while running and erupted into deafening screams. Simon’s eye twitched behind his shades, images flashing through his mind. Gary’s voice faded to a soft mumble, incoherent. His head started to ache, a sharp pain shooting across the back of it and he stumbled, grasping onto the fencing surrounding the play area. He released his ice-cream and it splattered onto the floor.

Roach reached out to him, expression dripping with concern though Simon couldn’t take any of it in. The child screamed again and he saw his nephew’s face, tiny clothes soaked in crimson – fragile form limp on the ground, buried beneath the carnage. Glazed over eyes, blank stare frozen in time, pointed in the direction that his killers had stood in. Frantic, Simon scrambled over the short barricade and raced towards the crying child, beating the mother to it as he scooped him up and began checking his face amid his panic. Nearby, the mother raced over, shouting and swearing for him to release her son but Simon wasn’t present, a million miles away he desperately shook the youngster – searching for signs of life.

A hand grasped his shoulder and somebody started to pull him away, but Riley put up a fight, hysterically calling out to his nephew who he was being dragged away from. He couldn’t do anything, he wasn’t breathing, he wasn’t – he was dead! They were _all_ dead, blood smeared across the ground surrounding him. His own laughter rang in his ears, as though his body was an empty shell.

“Simon, Simon it’s Roach, hey –” Gary waved an apology to the mother. “I’m so sorry, he didn’t mean anything by it he – sorry,” he strained, struggling to keep a hold of Riley. Both hands grasped the other’s shoulders at first, then he brought him into a tight embrace. “It’s okay, you’re safe, it’s okay, Simon, come back to me…” Eventually, Gary managed to walk Simon away from the scene and over to a bench where he had his company sit, an arm keeping their forms huddled. They stayed like that for a while, with Simon tucked out of sight, his breathing rapid – though it did begin to slow. He looked pale in the face, stare distant. “I’ve got you, Simon, you’re safe.” _What happened to your nephew, Simon_? _Your family_.

“Did I hurt him?” Riley’s managed, voice broken and hoarse.

“Who, Simon?”

“The kid.”

Gary frowned deeply. “No… no, you didn’t. Not at all.”

“I could’ve.”

“You _didn’t_ ,” Roach reassured.

“Fuck,” Simon seethed. “I don’t – don’t know what happened I – _fuck_!”

“You don’t need to think about that right now. Just _breathe_ , okay?”

“I could’a fuckin’… could’a hurt him… I didn’t –”

Roach listened, allowing Simon to get whatever he had on his chest _off of it_.

“I saw him, Roach. Thought I – could hear him I – there was blood _everywhere_.”

“Saw who, Simon?”

“Joseph. His fucking tiny body just – fucking Christ. Everyone was gone.”

It was becoming clearer and clearer to Roach that Simon had witnessed something no man should ever witness. His hold tightened around him. “You’re safe with me.”

“I couldn’t protect ‘em… They were already – I wasn’t there to protect ‘em. I thought it was him, I could see his face… fuck, Roach I could – _the smell_.”

Gary’s stomach jolted, though he held himself together for Simon’s sake. “Do you want to go back? We can get food another –”

“ **No** ,” Simon snarled. “ _No_ …” Softer, the second time. “I don’t… I want t’ –” He spoke barely above a whisper. “We were having _such_ a good time.”

“This hasn’t changed _anything_ , Simon. Going back isn’t going to ruin it.”

“I was holding my shit t’gether,” he hissed. “Everything was _fine_ I was – it was getting _better_. I’m not… I’m not fucking crazy…”

“I shouldn’t have brought up your family,” Roach decided. Simon was jittering, _visibly_ shaking.

“I don’t want you t’ – t’ feel like you’ve gotta fucking… _tip toe_ around me, Bug. Don’t want you t’ be scared of me.”

“I’m _not_ scared of you, Simon. I could never be scared of _you_.”

“I could hurt you.”

“That’s something… we’d deal with _if_ it ever came up. Which it might not. And if it did? Christ, Simon. You were more concerned whether you’d hurt that _kid_ than _yourself_. I’d know you didn’t mean it and we’d _figure it out_.”

“Ghost would shut you out.”

“Ghost has _already_ shut me out,” Roach noted. “Yet _here_ I am.”

“Thought I was _safe_ … thought I was getting _better_. Shouldn’t be around people.”

“Somebody _hurt_ you, Simon. You shouldn’t be _shut away_ from the world because of someone else. You don’t _deserve_ to be alone, and recovery takes _time_. Sometimes we never manage to _fully_ heal, but it helps a whole lot when you don’t have to do it by yourself.”

Simon sat quiet, listening – fading in and out of the present. Gary radiated warmth that eased him, that touched his core. “I don’t think I can drive us back safely,” he admitted.

“That’s okay. We can pick up the helmets and I’ll call Soap, see if he can get Price to give him a lift. He could drive your bike back, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then. I’ll give him a shout,” Roach said, reaching into his pocket for his phone.

“Don’t tell him… what happened…” Simon uttered. “Not yet.”

Roach gently rubbed at Simon’s arm. “I’ll leave that up t’ you, unless you change your mind.”

A finger hovered over Soap’s details for a moment as he thought about what he should say. He pressed dial. Soap answered after the second ring.

“Roach! What a pleasant surprise.”

“Hey, Soap, hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all, lad,” the Scot declared. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m actually… out with Simon, he’s been helping me get to know Hereford better, but it’s getting late and his eyes are feeling quite tired, he doesn’t really want to risk riding back. I don’t suppose Price is available, is he? Wanted to ask if you guys could possibly pick us up, and whether you could drive Simon’s bike back? I know it’s a lot to ask…”

“I’ll give Price a call and will let you know.”

“Sure thing, thanks so much, mate.”

Soap’s tone changed. “Is Simon alright?”

Roach imagined Soap likely knew it wasn’t tiredness. He lived with the guy, probably knew him like the back of his own hand. “He’ll _be_ alright.”

“Keep an eye on him, Roach. You take of him, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“Good lad. I’ll call you back in a sec, text me the address while you wait.”

“Will do.” The call ended and Roach turned to Simon who hadn’t moved. “He’ll call me back and let me know.” He entered in their location and sent the text over, keeping his phone in hand. “You okay to head back to the bike?”

“Yeh,” he exhaled. Simon was disappointed that his wonderful day had been interrupted, that his plans to go for a meal were sabotaged by his own brain.

“How about you come back t’ my place?” Roach suggested. “You really don’t have to if you’re not up to it. But I could order something in… we could watch some tv… whatever you feel like doing.” He thought about how Simon had pleaded for him to stay over the night they went out for drinks, and if Soap were to stay around Price’s again, he didn’t want Simon to be on his own. Granted, Soap would stay with Simon if he knew he’d had what Gary assumed was a traumatic episode… But he didn’t feel right _passing him over_.

“You don’t need t’ do that…”

“I know. But I want to.”

Riley untucked himself from Roach’s shielding hold and eyed him. “You don’t need t’ babysit me.”

“That’s exactly what I _don’t_ want you to think I’m doing. I’ve really enjoyed today, Simon. I haven’t… laughed this much in a while. I _genuinely_ enjoy your company.”

Simon took a deep breath, studying the other’s gentle smile. “I _genuinely_ enjoy your company, too, Bug.”

“Well that’s a relief, otherwise this’d be really _awkward_ ,” Roach replied lightly.

Although Simon didn’t laugh, he appreciated the effort. “I’m ready t’ go.”

* * *

Shortly after they returned to the bike, Gary’s phone started to ring. “It’s Soap,” he told Simon and accepted the call. “Hey!”

“Great news, we’re on our way.”

“Amazing,” Roach inwardly rejoiced. “That’s great, thanks so much, Soap.”

“Not a problem, mate. We’ll be there in roughly fifteen minutes, maybe a little longer – traffics a bit unpredictable.”

“That’s fine, we’ll sit tight until you’re here.”

“Perfect, see you in a bit, mate!” Soap concluded, ending the call.

“Price and Soap are en route,” Gary told Simon. “They won’t be long.”

“Thanks f’ sticking by me, Roach.”

“I’ll admit, I _was_ torn between finishing my ice cream and going after you but –” Gary shrugged with a smirk and the tiniest of curves formed on the other’s mouth.

“I knew it.”

“I’m always gonna stick by you, Simon. In fact, you’re _stuck_ with me for _good_.”

“I can think of worse things.”

Nearby, two men exited a pub – swearing and ranting about what was clearly drunken nonsense. Roach noticed they were coming their way and chewed on his lip. Just their luck. Hopefully, they’d _keep moving_. “What are you thinking f’ take-out?”

“Eh, whatever you feel like, Bug. I’m not… I don’t have much of an _appetite_ at the moment so I might… nick some’a yours.”

“I never manage to eat a whole portion by myself, anyway.”

“Works out just right, then.”

“What’s goin’ on here?” Someone piped up behind Simon, prompting the Brit to turn. It was the two blokes from the pub – Roach was certain his heart had risen into his throat. He wasn’t afraid of them, in fact he was about the same height and while he was thinner he had more muscle mass. What he _was_ afraid of was someone kicking Simon while he was down. “You boys havin’ a good evening?”

“Just fine, mate,” Simon replied tensely, shoulders squared. “Be even better if you moved along.”

Twat one looked at Twat two and laughed, a disgusting noise. “You fuckin’ hear this guy?”

“Look at ‘im squarin’ up,” Twat two hooted.

“He’s showin’ off in front of ‘is _girlfriend_.”

Simon took a step closer, the muscles in his jaw ticking and Gary found his palms sweating, realization setting in that if something broke out in this moment, there would be little he’d be able to do about it. “I said _move along_.”

“Or fucking _what_ , wanker? Won’t ‘ave such a _gob_ on you if I leave a _mark_ on your _bitch_ there will ya?” Twat one snarled, gesturing at Roach.

Gary could see that Simon was reaching into the very depths of his soul to keep from knocking these guys flat on their arses.

Twat one squinted at Simon. “Ah, you one’a those _soldier cunts_ , eh? Yeah… I can see it in your face.” He paused, glancing over at the Lieutenant’s bike. “Nice bike. You pay f’ that with the dead bodies?” The final blow was the guy placing his hands on Gary’s shoulders and _shoving_ him back, causing him to stumble into the bike, knock it over and fall on top of it. “Fucking pussy.”

In the blink of an eye, Simon was on the guy, delivering blow after blow to his chest and stomach. This was no average fight, and Gary was certain Ghost had emerged because he didn’t hold back. A hand clutched at the guy’s throat and Ghost shoved him back against the brick wall. When the second guy launched at him, the first was thrown to the floor to allow Ghost to take the second on just as brutally. People were starting to gather, attention being drawn – Gary had to try and stop this.

Ghost was relentless, an agonized shout coming from the second guy when he lashed out and Ghost caught his hand, twisting a finger the wrong way. A single punch to the throat knocked the bloke out of the fight, sending him to the floor spluttering and choking. From there, he turned back to the first twat and launched a punch at his jaw, looming over his writhing form. It was a side of Simon Gary had never seen, a side he suspected existed but witnessing it burst into flames was indescribable.

Roach pushed himself up from the bike, careful not to break anything _more_ as he steadied himself. His back burned, body aching and he was certain he’d sliced himself open in the fall but he ignored it, pressing forwards to grasp at Ghost’s bicep. “Stop!” He urged, avoiding using his name to ensure nobody would disturb them for this when these tossers could run their mouths again. “It’s me, you need to stop now, _point proven_!”

However, Ghost didn’t stop. He landed hit after hit, a few of the bastard’s teeth littering the walkway. Blood glistened on Ghost’s gloves, some of the dirty white skeleton markings stained with it. “You’re going to kill him!” Gary urged frantically, yanking at Ghost’s arm.

“Good,” Ghost ground out, only stopping to grab the man’s collar, bringing their faces close. “Fucking _scum_ bag. _Touch_ him now, you slag! **_Fucking_** touch him now!”

Behind them, Soap and Price pulled up. Noticing the commotion, Soap launched himself out of the car and ran over. “What the hell is this?”

Roach put his hands on his head. “I can’t get him off the guy! He’s gonna fucking kill him!”

“Take his left arm,” Soap ordered. It wouldn’t be long before the police showed up. “I’ve got his right. You’re gonna have t’ _fucking_ pull, mate.”

“Okay!” Gary agreed, regaining his hold on Ghost’s arm. With Soap’s help, he barely managed to separate the two, but succeeded nevertheless, dragging Ghost back and across the road. Price opened one of the back doors for them and they forced Ghost inside.

Roach crossed his arms over his chest, shutting himself away. “I’m so sorry, Soap, I had no idea this – I don’t – I –”

“You just get him home, lad. I’ll fucking sort this out. What’s happened to his bike?”

“I got pushed into it… I don’t think it’s badly damaged…”

“I’ll figure it out. I’ve got a spare key. _Get him home_ ,” Soap repeated, pointing at the car.

Without another word, Roach rounded the car to get in the other side, halting when Ghost exited the vehicle and doubled over, vomiting onto the road. Roach looked to Soap who was now at the bike and waved for him to stay there. He made his way back to the Brit and placed a hand on his shoulder. The other was violently trembling.

Once Ghost finished, Roach helped him to his feet and ushered him into the vehicle, opening his window in case the same thing happened again. Price asked no questions and started driving away from the scene. “What the _fuck_ was that?” Gary hissed, scowling at the other.

There was no reply. Ghost was still seething, bloody hands practically throbbing with adrenaline as he wiped at his mouth.

It was a terrible idea, to meet aggression with aggression. Taking a deep breath, Gary tried to calm himself. His back stung as he leaned against the seat and he tucked a hand underneath his shirt to feel for an injury. He was met with a gash across the lower section of his back. His hand was brought into view and there was a significant amount of blood on it. That caught Simon’s attention.

“ _You’re bleeding_ ,” he managed to mutter.

“It – it’s nothing,” Gary said. “I’ll deal with it back home.”

Simon sat up and leaned closer; there was a crack in his shades. “Let me see…”

“No,” he denied. “I’m _fine_.” It was certainly and understandably discomforting, the idea of _those_ hands touching him. The hands that’d nearly killed that guy. Gary knew Ghost had taken lives, knew what came with his line of work. But to witness him nearly commit murder? On the streets of their home?

“ _Please_ ,” Simon stressed, stripping off his gloves to reveal battered knuckles that were already starting to bruise. They were quaking.

Gritting his teeth, Gary’s first instinct was to reach out and take Simon’s hands into his own, clutching firmly. Riley took a sharp breath, gaze set on the contact. After a few seconds passed, Roach’s right thumb carefully stroked back and forth, reassuring.

The shaking eased, not _entirely_ – never curable, but the touch helped.

“Your _back_ ,” Simon insisted. “Show me.”

Sighing, Gary reluctantly took his hands away and used them to pin the back of his top up as he turned for Simon to see.

“Shit, Roach,” he breathed, frowning at the injury.

“Does it look worse than it is?”

“Looks _as_ bad as it is,” Simon corrected. “You need that treating.”

“I’m not going to the hospital,” Gary refused.

Price looked into his mirror. “You’ll need t’ have that cleaned, lad, it’ll get infected, otherwise.”

“I could do it,” the Lieutenant offered, swallowing. He seemed to be fighting the urge to bring more of his stomach contents up. “Done it plenty before.”

“I need you to drop us off at my place, Price,” Roach diverted. “I told Simon he could… stay with me tonight.”

“You can back out,” Simon suggested.

“That’s enough out of you,” Gary grunted firmly, pointing a finger and turning back to face the driver. “Do you remember where my place _is_ , Price? From the other night.”

“I remember, mate. Not a problem,” the Sergeant answered.

“Surprised _you_ ‘aven’t put me in _cuffs_ , Price,” Simon wondered.

“I’m off-duty,” Price informed him. “You don’t want me to talk about what just happened, I expect the same vice versa.”

“Do you realize how much trouble you could’ve caused for all of us, then?” Roach questioned.

Simon exhaled. “Not as easy as that, Bug.”

“We could’ve walked away. We could’ve called for help. We could’ve not fueled the fire. There were so many things we could’ve done, Simon. You didn’t even _want_ to contain yourself.”

The other’s voice was quiet, hushed primarily for Roach’s hearing. “He _touched_ you.”

“So that gives you the right to nearly kill him?”

“People think they can just fucking _take_ all the time. He won’t talk shit for a while, at least.”

Roach tapped his foot, expelling nervous energy. “This isn’t a _warzone_ , Simon. This is _Hereford_. You do that here, you get done for fucking assault.”

“My family died on home soil,” he stated coldly. “Nobody did _shit_. Nobody cared. All it takes is one cunt like that t’ shove someone _too hard_ and either _their_ life or the lives of everyone that person loves are ruined.”

“You aren’t some vigilante, Simon. You don’t get to make those decisions.”

“I killed the guys that took my family out.”

Roach’s brows drew together, glancing over at Price in the front seat. “We’ll talk about this _later_.” He cleared his throat, clenching and unclenching his own hands to ease himself. Simon’s _right_ hand found its way over to Roach’s left and was placed on top of it, keeping it still. Gary looked to Simon, hopeful for an indication of where he was at, but the other avoided his gaze – only his touch conveying that he was still trembling.

Tonight would be rough. Gary couldn’t even begin to think how they’d recover from this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Simon really struggles with civilian life, a reality Gary is now having to come to terms with. Will he be able to be there for him and face the darker side of Riley?


	11. Chapter 11

“Your place is nice,” Simon observed, keeping his hands to himself to avoid marking the room with blood.

Gary looked over from the cupboard he was searching. “Still haven’t managed to fully… set up yet.”

“Eh, it’s not noticeable.”

He located the rubbing alcohol he’d been searching for and pushed himself to his feet, shutting the cupboard door. “Got the alcohol. What do I need next?”

“You got any bandages? Y’ know, tape, gauze… that kinda shit.”

“Got a first aid box, somewhere…” Gary made his way over to another cupboard and located it hanging on the inside of the door, thankful he’d made _something_ easy for himself. “There you are.”

“Good. ‘s probably best we do this in a bathroom or somethin’. Might get messy.”

“I second that,” Roach agreed, collecting all the required items. He carried them into the nearest bathroom, aware of Simon following close behind him. The items were set aside on the sink, his fingers flexing to fight off nerves. “This is gonna fucking hurt, isn’t it?”

“Won’t be pleasant,” Simon shrugged. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

Gary considered the taller man, biting his lower lip. “I know you will.”

“I’ll need you t’ take your top off.”

“How very _forward_ of you,” Roach jested, trying to ignore his discomfort. Nevertheless, he stripped out of his t-shirt, screwed it into a ball and set it aside – hoping the blood on it wouldn’t smear.

Simon opened the first aid kit and examined its contents. “This should work. You good t’ go?”

“Just get it over and done with.”

The Lieutenant nodded, removing the cap of the alcohol. He unpackaged one of the gauzes and soaked it with the liquid. “Turn around.” Gary did exactly that, revealing the deep gash on his back. His shades were removed, hat having been taken off upon entering the premises. Simon gritted his teeth. The wet gauze was pressed to the side of the wound, testing Gary’s pain boundaries. “That okay?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Gary breathed sharply. The sting traveled down to the bone, his body threatening to jerk away. It did, when Simon began stroking away the blood closer to the centre, leading to him placing a firm hand on Roach’s hip to hold him still.

Focused on fixing the other up, Simon had yet to savour the view. While Roach wasn’t nearly as muscular and broad as Simon, his back was impressive, intricate dips and curves, a tasteful amount of hair scattered across the canvas. Sweat slicked and catching the bathroom light, it took everything in him not to explore biceps and forearms.

Once he’d managed to clean up most of the new and dried blood, he could see the injury better. “Good news is you won’t need stitches.”

“The bad news?” Roach croaked.

“I might need t’ kiss it better, afterwards.”

Sanderson rolled his eyes, unable to hide the smile on his lips – thankfully, Simon couldn’t see his front half. “ _Cheesy_.”

“Heh,” Simon huffed, amused.

Quiet fell between them, save for the irregular grunts and hisses of pain from Gary as the Lieutenant worked, adding alcohol to a clean gauze to finish cleaning what he could see. It wasn’t long before his _patient_ piped up.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead,” Simon hummed.

“It’s… about what you said, back in the car. If you don’t want to continue it…”

“Just _ask_ , Bug.”

“You said you… killed the guys who took out your family.”

“That’s right,” Simon verified.

“Did you… know who they were? Why they – why they did _that_?”

He inhaled deeply. “Lot you don’t know, Roach. Lot I don’t think I’ll ever talk about. I knew who they were, and I knew why they did it. I made ‘em pay.”

Gary sighed at the response.

“You don’t think that was the right choice?” Simon asked.

“I hate that you had to be the one.”

He blinked. “What d’ you mean?”

“To experience these things, Simon. I mean – I imagine nobody’s more pissed about it than you. I know you don’t… pity yourself, you don’t like people pitying you but I – I fucking hate that you went through that alone.”

“It’s done,” Simon grunted.

“For what it’s worth… I’m really glad we met.”

Simon’s hand lingered over the wound, stained gauze ghosting over it. “You’re trying to charm me.”

Gary chuckled. “Is it working?”

“ _Kiss arse_.”

He finished up with the cleaning and reached for a bandage that’d cover the span of the cut. Gently, it was pressed to his back, a sterile cover that’d protect it. “I’m done,” Simon decided. “That’ll need changing one t’ two times a day for up to a week, then, it’d be smart t’ leave it uncovered – let it breath.”

“Thank you, Simon.” Roach gave a sigh of relief, knowing the worst part was over.

“Sorry it had t’ be _my_ bike t’ fuck your back up.”

“Couldn’t have been prevented…” Gary turned to face the other, smile faltering as their eyes locked.

“What?”

“You’re… not wearing your shades.”

Simon’s gaze flicked over to the cracked glasses, then back at Gary. He looked nervous, as though this meant Simon was fully exposed without Ghost to hide behind. His eyes were stunning, a warm, rich brown that radiated empathy. The eyes of a broken man, Gary could see so much within them – sorrow, worry, excitement…

“ _They’re… beautiful_ ,” Gary whispered, taking in every feature unapologetically.

“ _You are_ ,” Simon responded, his own voice hushed.

“I thought I was the one doing the charming here?”

Doe hues dropped down to Gary’s lips, then lifted back up as he debated what to do. He didn’t want to waste time, didn’t want to miss the opportunity. “ _Bug_ …” he rumbled, now or never mentality, and leaned in – cupping the other’s jaw in his hands before bringing their lips together. The contact ignited something within him, a carnal desire that’d been dormant for some time. He stepped forward, closing the distance – forms touching, and Gary almost stumbled but Simon’s hand kept him in place. The kiss was hesitantly reciprocated, though not in the entirety Roach longed to give. While the other had cleaned himself up since arriving at Roach’s place, Gary could still taste the bitterness on Simon’s tongue – throat burning.

Simon deepened the kiss, pressing as much of himself against the other as he possibly could, desperate for some kind of freedom – liberation from this hollow emptiness. Gary’s hands pressed against Simon’s chest, urging for space between them. He followed, parting from the kiss and the starvation in his eyes made Gary’s legs go weak. _Why_ was he stopping this?

Disappointed, Riley took a shaky breath. “You don’t – you don’t want this?”

Roach hardened his stare, clutching at the chest of Simon’s t-shirt to prevent him from moving any further back. “It’s _not_ that,” he stated breathlessly. “ _Fuck_ , Simon, I want _this_ more than anything! I want _you_ …”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“I don’t… want to take advantage of you. Your situation.”

Simon’s hands threatened to wander, roaming the upper section of Gary’s back. “But I _want_ this… you’re not taking advantage of _anything_.”

“I feel like I am.”

“ _Roach_ …”

“There’s plenty of time for this,” Roach uttered, gently grasping Simon’s forearms to keep him from exploring any further.

Riley leaned in again, lips hovering over Gary’s. “Don’t wanna _wait_ …”

“ _When you feel better_ …” Gary promised, barely audible as he looked to Simon’s lips. He gave a final kiss, sealing his words. His palm was pressed to his back, checking his bandage and then he nudged past Simon to enter his living area. The tv was on, droning in the background, a lamp keeping the room dimly lit. Gary made his way into the kitchen, freeing two beers from a pack he had lying around.

Simon remained in the bathroom for a minute, gathering himself. He didn’t want to _face_ this right now. He wanted to feel _good_ , even if it was brief, he _needed_ it. Shaking his head, Riley tried to clear his thoughts. He stepped into the living room, head ducked. “Maybe I should go.”

“Is that Simon talking or Ghost?”

His gaze lifted to be met with Roach holding out a bottle of beer. Despite what’d just happened, the other adorned a fond smile. “I – you want me to stay?”

“Only if _you_ want to,” Gary shrugged.

He hesitated, then took the beer. “Even… after that?”

Roach sighed, making his way over to his sofa. Once seated, he called out. “Come sit next to me.”

Simon did, cautiously rounding the piece of furniture. He distanced himself, maintaining space between them until Roach grasped his arm and shuffled closer – encouraging Simon to practically hold him. “What are you doing?”

“That kiss,” he hummed. “Does this mean… you like me?”

Riley almost laughed at that. _Almost_. Trust Roach to be _unpredictable_. “Heh, I not make it obvious enough?”

Gary buried his face into the front of Simon’s jacket, inhaling his scent. “I was hoping… to hear you say it.”

There was a short pause, Simon’s gaze trying to search the other’s face. “Yeh, Roach. I like you.” He took a deep breath. “Shit, I _more_ than _just like_ you.”

Roach grinned, wrapping his arms around his company’s form, bringing him even closer. “I more than _just like_ you, too.”

Simon’s phone buzzed and he spared Roach a glance, then brought it into view.

NEW MESSAGE.  
 **SOAP.**

[ Got the bike back safe, left keys on… ]

“It’s Soap,” he stated, unlocking the device to read the rest of the message.

[ Got the bike back safe, left keys on your desk.   
She’s got some damage, but nothing major.   
Managed to get the helmets back safe and sound too.   
Price mentioned you’re staying with Roach tonight.   
Need to have words when you’re back, mate. ] 20:01

Sparing Roach the scolding words of his friend, he tucked the phone back into his pocket. “He managed t’ get my bike back, and the helmets.”

“Shit,” Gary grunted. “I forgot about those…”

“Heh, you had more important shit goin’ on.”

“I’m glad your bike’s okay, though. Hope I didn’t… do too much damage.”

“Nothin’ you could’a done, Bug. _Don’t worry about it_. Just glad your injury wasn’t any _worse_.”

The two stayed like that for some time, enjoying each other’s company and warmth. They decided against getting food, due to hunger perishing. Instead, they drank beers and rested, though Roach demanded Simon eat _something_ – since drinking on an empty stomach wasn’t something he’d ever encourage.

As the night progressed, Roach’s eyelids started threatening to close, therefore he shifted – drawing Simon’s attention. “Stand up,” he requested.

“Why?”

“Just stand up, Simon.”

Sighing, the taller man gave a strained groan as he rose to his feet, careful not to knock Roach’s back on his way up. “What now?”

Gary joined him, biting his lip as the cool air nipped at his bare back. He took Simon’s hand and led him down the hall to his bedroom.

Simon peered into the space, taking in the other’s style and tastes. In the far corner, facing the door was a beautiful desk; a sleek laptop resting on it. There was a bookshelf filled with a variety of books, games and movies. A cabinet filled with drawers took up an empty space, its surface clear and Simon wondered if he was preparing to put something there. Shelves had been placed on the wall for memorabilia, childhood trophies and family photos. There were also a few picture frames dotted around, from military related art to stunning paintings of what he assumed were favourite animals to imaginary landscapes. “This is nice,” he commented.

“Thank you, I haven’t… finished it yet. Moving is exhausting.”

“I could… help out, if you want.”

Roach arched a brow. “You just want an excuse to watch me on a ladder.”

“There is _that_ ,” Simon purred. His gaze took its time studying the details of Roach’s chest, now that he could see the other properly. His muscles were present, but faint, chest hair more prominent than around the rest of his body – and Riley found the urge to explore rising again.

“Holy shit, do not look at me like that ever again,” Roach demanded.

“Like what?” He asked, taking a step closer. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“I _mean_ it, Simon.”

The taller grinned, teeth playfully expressing his amusement. “I can’t help it.” Simon reached out, a hand hooking the other’s waist, drawing their hips together. “You make me _feel_ things…”

“Take your clothes off.”

Simon stared down at the other, grin falling. “What?”

“Your clothes. They’re _dirty_. You’re not getting in my bed with them on.”

“Your bed…”

“You’re welcome to sleep on the sofa, if you want. I just thought…”

“ _No_ ,” Simon muttered swiftly, not trusting his voice. “I can… I can take ‘em off.”

Roach smiled, stepping back until he could sit on the edge of his bed. Pay back for the _twirl_ the other had him do earlier. “Good. Go ahead.”

Riley watched him, _studying_. What were his intentions? Regardless, he didn’t hold back – he’s a soldier, after all. Acceptance and total elimination of body embarrassment went out the window during basic training, years ago. Simon decided to make a show of it for the other, first shrugging his jacket off which landed in a heap behind him. The hoodie was removed next, his lack of clothing underneath meaning as it was tugged over his head he was exposed to Roach’s devouring gaze.

Beneath, was his sculpted form, hard-earned muscles and a vast array of scars ranging from pale pinks to his newer, redder ones. He had more body hair than Roach, specifically on his chest, which teasingly trailed down beneath the waistband of his underwear that was visible above that of his cargo pants. Roach could see the tattoos down his left forearm, different shades of black visible – the most apparent one being a skull. Remaining silent, he nodded for Simon to continue, the other’s hands rising to his belt and hesitating for a moment. Eyes flicked up expectantly at Gary and like a magnet, the shorter gravitated towards him, his own hands replacing Simon’s.

The belt came undone easily, fingers nervously searching for the zip – accidentally brushing against Simon’s covered yet no less _present_ length. Roach drew in a sharp breath. “Sorry…”

“Don’t be,” he grunted, taking a hold of Gary’s wrists and guiding him to tug his cargos down, which he stepped out of, having placed his shoes at the entrance, leaving him in his boxers. From there, Simon led Gary’s palms to his chest, hoping by releasing the other would take initiative. However, he merely stood there. “ _Roach_ …”

“We said not yet,” Gary bit his lip.

“Doesn’t have t’ be like that…” he whispered back. “Just – wanna _feel_ you.”

Slowly, Gary dragged one palm down the canvas of Simon’s torso and back up.

“ _Fuck_ …”

He glanced up at Riley, maintaining eye contact for a moment before gesturing with his head over at the bed. “Get in. _You first_.”

Simon squinted, recovering from the contact. _Reeling_ from it. “You always this bossy in the bedroom?”

“When I want to be.”

He groaned. “You’re _torturing_ me.”

“I’ll make it worth it.”

Simon’s hands were placed on the jean-clad globes of Roach’s arse, prompting the other to gasp.

“ _Bed_ , Simon.”

Giving up, the Lieutenant stepped up to the bed and lifted the covers, soft to the touch, he slipped beneath them and manoeuvred himself over to give Gary enough space. Sanderson unbuckled his own belt and stepped out of his jeans, avoiding Simon’s gaze as he did so and then followed him in, careful not to exert his back too much as he wiggled beneath the covers and brought them down to conceal their forms.

Riley’s breath caught in his throat when Gary brought their bodies together, flesh against flesh – a thin layer of material the only thing separating them. A pained hum left Gary. “Your back hurt?”

“A little. Sharp stinging every now and again.” Simon ducked under the duvet and Roach craned his neck nervously. “Simon – what are you –” He could feel the other’s lips against him, a tender kiss being placed beside the bandage. “ _Simon_ …”

The other resurfaced, placing his chin on Gary’s shoulder. “Told you I’d have t’ kiss it better.” His brows furrowed, keeping his arms to himself. “Goodnight, Bug.”

However, to his surprise and equally his _delight_ , Roach reached back, grasped Simon’s arm and gently positioned it over his side; placing the other’s hand into his own which he then _squeezed_.

Simon smiled against the nape of his neck.

“Goodnight, Simon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first kisses!! The slow burn is real.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only two more chapters left of this fic! there's a LOT still to happen, however.

Roach awoke to the unmistakable smell of a cooked breakfast, sizzling bacon seeping under his closed door and fresh toast heavy in the air. He blinked, adjusting to the light licking through his curtains and listened to the muffled sound of traffic passing by outside. Straining, he checked behind him, noticing the lack of warmth he recalled falling asleep with and noticed Simon was missing.

Excited by what he would find beyond his room, Roach sat up from his bed, the sting of his wound drawing a quiet hiss from him – having not moved it for several hours. He snatched up his discarded jeans and located his phone in the pocket.

**09:58.**

He wondered how long Simon had been awake for and spotted that the Brit’s trousers and t-shirt were missing, green jacket still present. _Well that’s a good sign he hasn’t left_ , Roach thought. There was no work, since they’d decided to take the day off meaning there was nowhere to rush off to. His jeans were thrown into the washing basket at the bottom of his bed; a fresh pair of grey sweatpants collected from his wardrobe, along with a navy t-shirt and some clean underwear which he quickly changed into.

Once clothed, Gary made his way into the hall, inhaling the overpowering smell that caused his stomach to express its ravenous state. He approached the kitchen’s doorway and leaned against the frame. Simon had his back turned, shoulders terrifically broad and concealing the food he was cooking. Admittedly, Gary wouldn’t have complained at waking to a near-naked Simon hovering over his stove but he was thankful, either way.

“Smells good,” he complimented, mid-yawn.

Simon turned, expression brighter than it had been last night. “You’re awake.” His gaze roamed, taking in the casual clothes that fitted Gary’s frame perfectly.

“I am,” Gary gave a tired smile. “You didn’t have to do this…”

“Tried to find what I could, not my kitchen so –” He shrugged. “I’ll replace what I used.”

“No, that’s okay, Simon, really. This is very sweet of you.” Though Riley didn’t appear to be listening, despite his attention being fixed on the other. “ _Hey_ ,” Gary called fondly. “You okay?”

Simon blinked. “What? Yeh… Couldn’t be better.”

He took a few steps closer. “You sure?”

Riley’s arm hooked around him, bringing their bodies together. “I’m gonna need you t’ warn me in advance before you come into a room looking like that, in the future.”

Roach snorted, rolling his eyes. “Like what?”

“ _That_ ,” Simon’s tone dipped in exaggeration. “ _Gorgeous_.”

His cheeks reddened. “Stop,” Roach groaned, pressing a palm to Simon’s chest.

“ _Never_ , Darlin’.” Simon leaned down, peppering his neck with kisses.

“ _Darling_?” Roach teased. “Is that so?” A hushed moan danced from parted lips, fuelling the fire. Simon didn’t respond, his kisses making their way along Roach’s jaw before lingering at the corner of his mouth.

“Darlin’, Babe, Sugar Tits…” he purred. “Whatever you prefer.”

Roach was stilled by Riley’s forwardness, until the anticipation became unbearable and he pressed their lips together. Immediately, Simon lifted Gary under the thighs – avoiding his wound – and walked him over to one of the granite counters, seating him there. Gary paused the kiss. “Sugar Tits?” He grinned.

Simon gave a throaty laugh, husky from the cigarettes he smoked. Their teeth clinked, catching each other’s lips a few times as Riley leaned in, hands moving to explore Roach’s body. Reciprocating, but wary not to let this escalate too far, Gary ran his hands up Simon’s back and gripped at his shoulders, pulling him into a deeper kiss.

Beside them, the cooking sausages spat in warning. “Simon,” Roach managed against his mouth, a giggle leaving him when Riley groaned. “The food’s burning!”

Breathlessly, they parted, with Simon sneaking a couple of extra pecks in before stepping aside to turn off the gas. He looked back at Gary, lust heavy in his gaze. “‘s cooked.”

“Good,” Roach sighed. “I’m starving.”

* * *

The empty plates were placed into the sink for cleaning later on and Roach appreciated Simon leaving as little mess as possible. “That was amazing,” he thanked, looking over his shoulder at the other who stepped behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“Least I could do after everything.”

“You don’t need to repay me when those things happen, you know? I’ll be there, regardless.”

Simon grumbled into Gary’s shoulder. “How’d I end up finding someone so –”

“ _Don’t_ say perfect,” Gary smirked.

“Let me _appreciate_ you,” Simon pleaded.

Roach turned, pressing the side of his face against Simon’s chest. Riley’s hand rose to stroke the stubble there, pausing when Roach took his wrist in his hold and eyed his hand. He stepped back, doing the same with the other hand – assessing the cuts and bruises running across Simon’s knuckles. He pressed a kiss to each one. “These look bad.”

“They’ll be fine,” Simon exhaled, savouring Roach’s touch.

“You need ice or something?”

“No.”

Roach frowned at the damage. There was no way they didn’t hurt. Carefully, keeping his eyes on Simon, he brought the hands closer and made a point of dipping them under his t-shirt, guiding them to his bare stomach. Simon didn’t dare to move, terrified the entire moment would vanish into thin air if he were to. His breathing became shallow, brown hues fixated on concealed limbs and exhaled shakily when his aching palms met Roach’s skin.

Gary released his hold, allowing Simon to roam as he pleased. “Touch me…” He uttered, prompting a withheld breath to depart as a whimper from the Lieutenant.

Simon’s hands mapped out the entirety of Roach’s torso, starting at the abdomen and working his way up to his shoulders and nape. No words were spoken as he did so, his gaze regularly lifting to meet Gary’s – _checking in_. Only when his touch drifted further down, nearing his waistband did Gary’s own hand rise to hesitantly stop him.

“Fuck,” Riley choked, searching Gary’s face. “Let me make you feel _good_ , Bug…”

“Not yet, Simon.”

He exhaled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Want you so bad.”

“Soon, Baby,” the words flooded from Gary’s mouth before he could check them and at first he thought Simon would make fun of him, but it only drew out a deep groan.

“Ah, _fuck_ , c’mere…” Roach was backed against the counter he’d previously been seated on, a hiss leaving him when it grazed his bandage, causing Simon to release him. “Shit, I didn’t – Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, Baby you didn’t… I’m fine, just knocked it…”

“Let me have a look at it.”

Gary sighed, closing the distance Simon had put between them. He placed a palm to the side of the other’s face and smiled. “Please just keep kissing me.”

* * *

Time had passed, leading to them finding their way back to the sofa, where Roach had straddled Simon’s hips – keeping his back to empty space. Riley’s hands were exploring Gary’s rear, lips melded and breathing heavy when his phone buzzed. They parted, Roach wholly conscious of the tent in his sweatpants. His eyes drifted down while Simon busied himself with checking his phone and bit his lip when he saw the other was in the same situation.

“Bollocks,” the Lieutenant grunted. “It’s – It’s Soap,” he tried to catch his breath. “I need t’… should really go back ‘n’ talk to ‘im.”

“With that?” Roach asked.

Simon glanced up, arching a brow. He followed Gary’s mischievous gaze and then looked back at him. “What can I say?” A grin formed on his lips, one of the hands of Gary’s arse drifting down to linger on his thigh. “Can’t fuckin’ get enough’a you, Darlin’.”

“Well it’ll have t’ be enough _for now_ ,” Roach taunted. “I’d hate to piss Soap off.”

“He can wait…” Simon urged. “Look at you, Bug,” he gestured to Roach’s own hard-on. “ _We can help each other_.”

Gary huffed, brushing a knuckle against the material covering Simon’s hardened member, leading to the other giving a prolonged, needy hum. “Trust me when I say I would like _nothing more_ than for us to sit here and get each other off.”

Countering the tease, Simon grasped Roach’s hand and in one swift movement, placed it directly over his covered erection, wheezing his satisfaction when Gary gasped.

Gary’s eyes widened at the unexpected move and he almost choked on his own saliva. He could make out the shape of Simon’s member beneath his clothing, could sense the size and couldn’t stop thinking how it barely seemed to fit in his fucking _hand_. Roach pulled away when Simon dared to rock his hips, the sensation making him visibly shudder. It didn’t help that any movement made his own length rub painfully against his boxers. “ _Jesus Christ_ , Simon,” Gary complained, making an effort to keep his hands hidden behind him.

Simon continued to calmly laugh. “Don’t make me go home like this.”

“Have a cold shower,” Gary glared playfully, unhooking his legs to sit beside the other.

“Only if you take it with me.”

“You need to _stop_.”

“Or what, Bug?”

“Or I’ll make you wait longer, out of spite.”

Simon considered him, then sighed loudly. “At least give me one more kiss.”

“Once you’re ready to go,” Gary reasoned.

“When will I see you again?”

“After you’ve cleared things up with Soap, whenever you want.”

“We have work t’morrow.”

“We do,” Gary acknowledged.

“Don’t think I’ll be able t’ keep my hands off you.”

“I’m done listening to you now, get your stuff together.” His words drew another chuckle from the Lieutenant. He didn’t know how, but Simon knew all the right things to say to get into Roach’s pants, that delightful voice making heat pool in his gut – messing with his head. Gary made his way into the bathroom to give himself time for his hard-on to ease as well as to check whether he’d bled through his bandage. Just his luck – he _had_. He started searching through his first aid items that had been left in the sink and located a second bandage. He’d have to buy some more, since that seemed to be the last one. Carefully, he peeled the old bandage back – realizing he must’ve aggravated it by knocking it on the counter. Gary screwed it up and threw it in the bin, using a tissue to wipe away any drips of blood which was extremely difficult to do with a small mirror as his only help and a strange angle to access on his back.

Gary’s direction was off and he nudged the edge of the wound. A sharp whine left him, teeth gritting when the bruising flared.

Simon turned the corner and raised his brows. “Need some help?”

“Feeling me up is not helping.”

“I’m not gonna do that, Bug. C’mon, I promise I won’t try anything.”

“Fuck. Okay – I just can’t… quite reach it.”

“Give me that,” Simon requested, taking the bandage and bloodied tissue. “Hold still.” He dabbed away the wet blood and then removed the bandage’s wrapping. It was pressed over the wound and a finger traced the edges to make it stick. “There, all done.”

“Thank you, Simon…”

“What happened to Baby?” Riley asked, pouting.

“ _Baby_. Thank you, _Baby_.”

“Love it,” Simon confessed, grinning. “Ready t’ go, Darlin’. You mind givin’ me a lift?”

“Sure thing, give me one sec.” Roach made his way to his room where he retrieved his wallet and keys. He hadn’t even had time to stop and comprehend _what was happening_ , here. Whether he was head over heels or plain stupid. _Simon liked him_. Simon _wanted_ him, wanted to _be_ with him. “Shit…” He whispered to himself and made his way back into the hall, not wanting to seem suspicious by taking too long. Once Simon wasn’t around, he’d have time to process his thoughts. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The drive was quiet, likely because reality was dawning on Simon that Soap would want to discuss what’d happened yesterday. He’d worry and try to council him if he found out he’d had an episode. It’d been such bliss, with Roach – he hadn’t forgotten, but it hadn’t been at the forefront of his mind.

“You feeling okay?” Roach asked, side-eyeing Simon from the drivers seat. He seemed distant, lips taut – Gary wondered if this was how he often looked beneath the mask. There was no reply. “Hey, Simon?”

“Huh?” Riley stirred from his mind.

“I said are you feeling okay?”

“Oh – _fine_.”

There it was again, that cold wall that was near impossible to break through. “You thought about what you’re going to say to Soap? I imagine he knows you weren’t tired…”

“I’ll figure it out.” He was reluctantly pulled back into his brain’s barrage of anxiety-inducing thoughts. That familiar bubble of dread. Simon barely blinked, struggling to bring himself back from whatever void he’d vanished into.

Roach cautiously placed a hand on Simon’s knee, light pressure. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

He couldn’t sense Gary’s hand. If anything, he could see it – visually present but everything else had gone silent. Then, Gary squeezed, a thumb stroking back and forth helping to ground him. “Where are your family, Bug?”

Sanderson’s brows shifted. “My family?”

“Yeh.”

Roach noticed Simon placed a hand on top of his, keeping him there. “Uh – well, my parents split up when I was younger… Mum’s currently in Yorkshire. I don’t – I don’t talk to my dad much.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t agree with… anything I do. Hates that I want to join the military. He uh – always compares me to my brother.”

“You get along with your brother?” Simon questioned.

There was a pause. “He’s… not around anymore. But for the time he was, yeah.”

“What was his name?”

Roach exhaled shakily. There was no flat ‘ _sorry to hear that_.’ No uncomfortable pat on the shoulder or forced sympathy that he’d experienced countless times. “Drew. Short for Andrew.”

“Older than you?”

“He was. Three years. He – uh – he was in the army. Stepped on a landmine.”

“Royal Marines makes sense, now, s’pose,” Simon said.

“My dad lost it, after that. Even more so when I… told him I wanted to join.”

“Yeah.”

“When I said I wanted to go through with it, he couldn’t accept that –”

“Heh, my old man fucking tore me apart over joinin’,” Simon recalled.

“Why?”

“Called me a hitman f’ the Queen.”

“People don’t… tend to get it. Drew uh – he often said that. Didn’t feel like he fitted in with anyone other than, y’ know, his army lads. Think I was the only one he wanted to spend time with, in our family. He was an inspiration t’ me… I never would’ve questioned him, doubted him like they did.”

“Sounds like he was lucky t’ have you.”

Up ahead, Simon’s place came into view and Roach pulled into a parking space and cleared his throat. It was only now he realized his hand was still being pinned by the other’s. “We’re here.”

“Yeah.”

Moments passed and Riley didn’t move. “Simon?”

“Roach.”

“You wanna sit for a minute?” Gary asked.

“Yeh.”

“Hey,” he manoeuvred their hands so he could use both of his to _hold_ Simon’s. “It’s gonna be fine. He’s worried about you, Simon, that’s the extent of it. He cares about you… as do I.”

Riley stared at Roach’s hold. “Don’t let me push you away, Bug.”

One of Roach’s hands was placed on Simon’s face, cradling his jaw. He used it to guide the other closer so that he could kiss him. The sound that left Riley made Roach’s heart _ache_. “Text me when you’ve finished, _or_ call me.”

Simon nodded, meeting Roach’s caring gaze. “Take care of your _back_.”

“Take care of _yourself_ ,” Roach countered, giving a final kiss. “ _Baby_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gary recognizes that Simon is seeking something to fill his emptiness over genuinely seeking a relationship and is therefore holding out to ensure Simon's not just being impulsive.
> 
> I've mentioned it to a reader already, but once this fic is over, would you be interested in me creating a third fic for the series purely of one-shots, likely mostly of Simon x Gary but maybe also Price x Soap? It'll be random uploads whenever I feel like writing something, but I love this universe I've created and I know some of you are interested in seeing more characters introduced etc and there's definitely plenty that the lads get up to after this fic ( without the pressure of coming up with a whole other story. ) let me know if that's something you'd be up for seeing eventually! Maybe let me know what MW characters you'd like to see? I can do 2019 renditions of original mw characters and characters from the 2019 game - but don't want to bring one in that no one's interested in reading about if that makes sense?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty rough chapter this time.

A whole day had passed since Roach had dropped Simon back at his place. He hadn’t heard anything from him _or_ Soap. _Don’t let me push you away, Bug_. Simon obviously foresaw himself distancing, shutting off from the world. Gary understood it, to a degree – when he lost his brother he treated the world like it was an enemy. Tuned his friends out, cut himself off from the girlfriend he had at the time. He didn’t want to eat or take care of himself, wasn’t interested in keeping active or social. Gary imagined it was tenfold for Simon, having lost his entire family – and Roach knew there was far more to it than that. Things Simon might never talk about. His need to switch off and disappear into nothingness was valid, and Gary understood it.

Ghost made sense, from that perspective. A personal body-guard, effectively, the ability to cut himself off if he needed to. It wasn’t healthy, however, Gary could see how that compartmentalization would be important for his line of work, which Simon took very seriously.

Outside The Barracks, Roach sat in his car – staring over at the two bikes parked up. One was Simon’s – a side mirror missing and a few scratches across the frame. He wondered how this day would play out; whether Simon would be able to make peace or if Ghost would never allow them to speak again. He wouldn’t find out, sat in his car. Sighing, Roach exited the vehicle with his pack slung over his shoulder. He locked it and then made his way into the inn, knowing no matter how many times he told himself he was prepared for _anything_ , he definitely wasn’t.

“Roach!” Soap greeted, gesturing for him to come over.

Gary stepped behind the bar and squatted, hiding his pack from view. “Hey, Soap, what’s up?” He asked, rising and shifting over to the Scot’s side.

“We’ve got quite a large booking comin’ in t’day, so it’s gonna be all hands on deck.”

“How many people?”

“Table’a twelve,” Soap informed.

“Twelve people? I don’t think I even _know_ twelve people.” He considered what kind of people booked to eat at a military-themed pub. Maybe it was a team stopping by, military personnel of some kind…

“Hah, aye, I’ve already reserved the table so you’ve just gotta make sure you’re not promisin’ anybody seats that aren’t available.”

“Got it,” Roach nodded. “What time are they coming?”

“About two o’clock, give or take.”

“Fine. Is – uh – is Simon around?”

“He’s in the back at the moment,” Soap stated.

“I was… How did things go with him? When I dropped him home?”

“It wasn’t pretty,” the Scot admitted. “Got t’ the bottom of it, though. I really appreciate you handlin’ that the way you did, Roach. Didn’t need t’ see that but you managed.”

“I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

“You ‘n’ me both,” Soap agreed. “I’ve noticed he’s been spending a lot of time with you lately, too.”

“Oh –” Roach clenched his jaw. “Yeah… I thought he could, y’ know, use the company.”

“Good lad,” the other smiled. “I’ll warn you now, however, maybe keep t’ yourself t’day.”

Roach wanted to ask why, but he already knew the answer. Simon had experienced varying stresses over the last few days. He was protecting himself from any _more_. “Noted. Thanks, Soap.”

“I’m gonna sort the bins, lad. You alright in here for a minute?”

“Sure.”

He watched Soap leave, busying himself with putting away clean glasses and getting the ice out when the door to the back of the pub opened and slammed. Roach’s gaze snapped up, uncertain of what to expect. Ghost walked into view, skull mask on – he seemed to be aware of Gary’s presence. “Simon,” he tried to greet, disappointment swelling in his chest when Ghost eyed him blankly. “You… didn’t text me. Did everything go okay?”

Ghost approached the bar and leaned against it, voice gruff. “ _Don’t_ talk about it.”

“I – Okay… But how are you feeling?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just get on with your shit, yeah?”

“ _Simon_ –”

“ _Ghost_ ,” the masked man corrected.

Roach sighed as Ghost turned and made his way into the restaurant area. This would have to be his big decision. Whether he should pursue Simon or let… whatever it was between them dissipate into nothing. Was this sustainable? What if he got injured at work? What if he was killed? What if his episodes became worse? Endless questions filled his head and he decided he didn’t have to choose right at that very second. _At least by the end of the day_ , he told himself.

Things progressed how Gary had imagined they would. Ghost became more hostile as the hours passed by, criticizing and insulting as he’d done when Gary first met him. Regardless of that, however, when Ghost went outside for his smoke break, Roach sought him out. He hadn’t decided yet, but he _had_ told Simon that _no one should be alone_.

Ghost had his back to the same wall as the last time Gary found him smoking. His mask was pulled over his nose, a cigarette hanging from his lips – swirls of smoking creeping around him.

Roach figured a silent approach would be smart, positioning himself beside the other. He did nothing but stand there, which Ghost tolerated for approximately a minute. “What d’ you want?”

Gary didn’t meet his gaze. “Nothing.”

“Soap send you?”

“No.”

Ghost’s jaw tightened. “Not looking f’ company right now, _Roach_.”

“Well sometimes things happen when we’re not looking for them.”

“What’s that supposed t’ mean?”

Roach shrugged. “Can I have a cig?”

Ghost hesitated at the request before handing one over. He flicked his lighter, drawing out a flame and lit it once Roach placed it between his lips. “Can’t give you what you want, Roach.”

“That’s not true, you just gave me a cig.”

“Right – _shit lungs_ , ‘en. That’s all I can give you.”

Roach narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know _what_ I want.”

“I would’ve killed that guy.”

Things were taking a turn for the worst. Biting his lip, Roach resorted to a different tactic and reached down, grasping Ghost’s hand in his own _tightly_.

Ghost fell quiet, the sound of their cigarettes crackling the only one between them. The hold wasn’t reciprocated, but he didn’t fight it, either.

“You will never know what you _can_ give if you don’t try,” Roach breathed. “Recognize what you _can’t_ give and what you simply _won’t allow_ yourself to give.”

Neither talked, after that. They shared a mutual silence, Simon clearly absorbed in his thoughts by the way his hand kept twitching in Roach’s hold.

* * *

Gary glanced at his watch – **14:18**. The party of twelve had shown up ten minutes ago and Soap had requested that he take the lead on waiting on their table. He’d shown the group to their seats, with Ghost having checked everything was in the right place beforehand. This was a significant income for The Barracks, hence the attention to detail. If something was wrong, they could potentially miss out on money – some of which, in one way or another, would end up in their pockets.

It was a group of men, a few accompanied by women – their connection none of Gary’s business. Some appeared to have a connection to the military, their burly laughter and occasional inappropriate comments similar to the behaviour he’d seen among his brother’s army mates.

“Can I get a drink refill for anyone?” Roach asked, presenting the smile he’d practiced specifically for those he was serving.

“Take a look at this lad,” one of the men barked, the heads of the others turning – all attention on him.

“I reckon you’ve ‘ad one too many drinks, Ronnie!” Another claimed.

The one supposedly called Ronnie stuck his middle finger up at his mate. “Fuck off, I’m lettin’ ‘im know ‘e’s easy on the eyes!”

“How about you work your shit pickup lines _after_ lunch, Ron-o!” A third snorted.

Roach found himself more dumbfound than embarrassed, though there was something startling about having a man practically bellow compliments at you.

“No drinks, thanks Babe,” one of the women called out.

“Your food will be out shortly,” he informed, before turning and leaving to serve someone else as fast as he could without rudely _sprinting_. He passed Ghost at the bar on his way to the next customer and was certain he could feel the other staring – his intense gaze unmistakable. “How’re we doing this afternoon?” He asked the woman sat in the bar space.

“Alright, fella, thanks for asking,” she replied with a nod.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“I’ll have a cider.”

“Is on draft okay?”

“Yeah, whatever you have lad, fine by me.”

“No worries,” Roach smiled, making his way over to the bar. “Hey…” he greeted Ghost as he plucked a glass from the shelf and brought it to one of the cider taps.

“That bloke givin’ you trouble?” Ghost inquired, voice low and guttural.

Roach’s brows raised. “Bloke?” He glanced to the other, who nodded in the direction of the man that’d obnoxiously flirted with him. “Oh – eh, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” He was caught off-guard that Ghost had payed any mind to it. Filling the glass in hand, Roach made his way back over to the customer and placed it in front of her. “There you go. Will that be everything?”

“That’s it, thanks!”

“My colleague will give you a hand paying for that when you’re ready,” Roach gestured to Ghost and the woman gave him a thumbs up.

He kept himself occupied as the table of twelve was served their main meal, waiting until they were at least half-way through before re-approaching. During this time, they’d been noisy and Roach was growing nervous that someone would complain to him about them. “How’s your food so far?”

“Yeah, it’s very nice, pet,” one lady praised – which he would take to the chefs for feedback.

The rest of the group agreed, humming and mumbling their own opinions.

“Oi, Love, don’t suppose _you’re_ on the menu, are ya?” Ronnie slurred.

“Shut up, mate, let ‘im do ‘is job,” his friend groaned.

Ronnie clearly wasn’t treasured among his friend group – understandably. He seemed like the bloke you brought along to keep him from feeling left out, but he always got you kicked out of wherever you went into. Which was a rising idea, in Roach’s mind.

“I’m just sayin’,” Ronnie argued, craning his neck to see Roach better. “You got a phone number?”

“I’m not looking for that, sir,” Roach explained uncomfortably, glancing at the others. “Can I get anything for –”

“Sir!?” Ronnie barked. “Now you’re fuckin’ askin’ for it! Come on, Sunshine, it doesn’t ‘ave t’ turn into anything!”

“ _You need to stop_ ,” Roach told him, but his efforts were entirely thwarted when the tosser wrapped his arm around Sanderson’s waist to keep him from moving away. His wound was rubbed and the jerking around definitely did more damage than good, a searing pain biting into his spine and he felt a hand grab his arse. Panic swarmed him as he grabbed the man’s arm and frantically attempted to free himself.

“Oi!” A voice snarled from behind, prompting the man’s grip to falter – sending Roach stumbling backwards and nearly into a table, were it not for the person who caught and steadied him.

Roach turned on his heel, prepared to throw a punch at – Ghost? The Brit didn’t take his eyes off Ronnie, but carefully led Roach to his side and back, _away_ from the wanker. The Lieutenant, however, stepped _closer_. “You fuckin’ havin’ fun with my colleague, mate?”

Ronnie squinted at the skull mask and clumsily rose to his feet, much to the dismay of everyone else he was seated with. “That’s all it is. _Fun_. You got a problem, lad?”

“Problem is, he didn’t look like he was havin’ **_fun_**.” Venom dripped from his tone at the use of the word.

“Ah, fuck off, mate, don’t hire sluts then ‘cause he was fuckin’ all over me!”

Roach sensed an immediate change in Ghost, he was prepared for it this time – the same switch he witnessed before Ghost’s _last_ fight broke out. Gary threw himself in front of his friend who was a _single_ second away from charging at Ronnie, fists clenched and shoulders squared. “Don’t do this again,” he pleaded, gripping at Ghost’s forearm. “You’ll lose your _job_ , Simon, _walk away_ , fucking walk away _right now_.” When Ghost only proceeded to try and push on forwards, Roach thumped the masked man’s chest, causing their eyes to meet. “Fucking _leave_. Take a _walk_. **Out!** ”

Ghost gritted his teeth, seething behind his mask but he managed to turn himself around and stormed out the front of the building, disappearing.

Roach couldn’t believe he’d prevented literal hell from breaking loose, but he didn’t have time to rejoice. He turned to Ronnie, working to keep from balling his hands into fists in order to knock the guy flat _himself_. “Sit your arse down, _Ronnie_.”

“Get your fucking manager, Cupcake, I wanna –”

Roach’s voice dropped, addressing only the other man. “I’m about five seconds away from knocking your teeth down your fucking throat, mate. _Sit_ down.” With some encouragement and thorough scolding from his group, Ronnie re-seated himself as Soap appeared from the back.

“What’s this, Roach?” He asked.

“Call Price,” Gary told him.

“Why? What ha–”

“ _Call Price_ ,” he said again, trying to keep his body from trembling at the adrenaline coursing through him. God only knew where Simon had gone off to. He hoped he wasn’t doing anything dangerous.

Soap pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled the number, passing the phone over to Roach.

“Soap?” Price answered.

“Price, it’s Gary. Are you busy?”

“Not currently responding to anything, lad, what do you need?”

“There’s been an assault at the inn. Can you get here?”

Roach could hear Price relaying the message over to who he assumed was Gaz. “We’re on our way. Who’s been assaulted?”

He looked Ronnie dead in the eyes, scowling. “ _Me_.”

* * *

Soap solved the commotion with the other customers as Gaz handcuffed Ronnie and walked him out to the car. Price stood opposite Roach near the door, his fingers hooked through his tactical vest as Gary filled in a report form on one of the bar tables.

“Here,” Roach said, handing it over when he’d finished with it.

Price read over the report in his head, expression contorting at every other line, lip twitching as he was informed detail by detail of the assault. “Right, that’s a huge help, Roach, thank you. I hate to ask, but were there any other witnesses?”

“The other customers saw… I think Ghost saw everything… We also have CCTV you can take a look at?”

“Perfect. I’ll get this tosser looked into, lad, don’t you worry. Where can I access the footage?”

“You’ll have to ask Soap, I haven’t been shown that yet, sorry,” Roach sighed.

“No worries, Gary,” Price said reassuringly. “Where’s Ghost?”

“I don’t know… you’ll see on the footage I – I had to keep him from wrecking the guy. He left after that, haven’t had a chance to look for him.”

“I would say let him cool down, but it might be best if you find him. God forbid anyone crosses him right now.”

“You’re right,” Roach nodded. “I’ll wait until Soap can manage things…”

“You done in?” The Sergeant asked, brows thick with concern. “I can have someone speak with you –”

“That’s the last thing I want to think about right now, Price. Thanks, but I’m okay.”

“I’m gonna speak t’ Soap. You take it _easy_ , alright? I’ll keep you updated.”

“Alright, thanks Price.” Roach seated himself at the table and buried his face in his hands, attempting to process everything that’d happened. He could feel the pressure surrounding him, mimicking the dickhead’s arm and he ended up having to stand to shake it off. Soap parted from the customers and took Price into the backroom, which Roach imagined held the CCTV he’d yet to locate. He waited patiently, observing the pub’s activity as other staff members saw to the customers until the two re-emerged. They conversed for a few minutes before Price headed for the exit.

“We’re off, Gary. Soap’s given me your number so I’ll be in touch, alright?”

Roach gave a tired wave, watching the other exit out and into his patrol car, which then pulled away and drove off. Soap approached and cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder. “You alright, mate? Sorry I wasn’t out here t’ help, didn’t realize somethin’ like that was gonna break out…”

“It’s fine, Soap. Nobody could’ve predicted that.”

“You know where Ghost went?”

“I’m going to go look for him, if you’re okay to manage this? I need some fresh air myself…”

“Absolutely, lad, you do what you need to.” Soap gestured for him to exit out the front and not past the party Ronnie had come in with, who were still waiting at the table bickering about what they were going to do.

Roach made his way outside, nervously looking around wondering where to look first. Carpark, he thought, and walked around the building to where his car was located. At first, he couldn’t see anyone, until he made out smoke whirling into the air from behind his car. With furrowed brows, he went over to investigate and found Ghost sitting with his back to the car’s driver door, a cigarette in his mouth and two that’d already been smoked and discarded next to his boot.

“Simon…” Gary began.

The other’s gaze snapped to him and then averted to the floor. “ _What_?”

Roach stepped closer, cautious not to move too fast as he lowered himself beside Simon, pressing his back against his car. “Price came and took him down to the station.”

“He’ll get off easy,” Simon hissed.

“What, and you think killing him and getting yourself arrested is a better option?”

“These fucking… disgusting bastards, Roach… they think they can just… do what they want. Touch who they like and say what they like without any fucking _repercussions_.” He remembered back at Roba’s brainwashing facility, he’d experienced his own assault. Haunted by the memory of being so completely drained he couldn’t fight it. Knowing that the one who did it was possibly out there, thriving. “They all deserve t’ fucking burn.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Roach said. “I don’t disagree with you, Simon. But that’s not how shit works.”

“It is if nobody ever finds out.”

Gary exhaled, exasperated from the day’s events and horrified by the total lack of emotion in Simon’s voice when he made _those_ remarks. He brought his knees up, rested his elbows on them and placed his face into his palms with a deep sigh.

“He hurt you?” Simon’s voice seemed to soften at the sound of the other’s distress.

“My back fucking hurts…” Roach muttered. “And he…” A shiver ran through him. “Fucking _grabbed_ me.”

Simon inhaled and exhaled loudly, taking another two puffs of his cig back to back. “Let me take a look.”

“No,” Roach rejected. “No I don’t… don’t wanna be fucking _touched_ right now.”

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Roach.”

“No.”

“ _Hey_ …” Simon whispered, discarding his third cigarette as he shifted closer. “Hey.”

Roach glared at him. “ _Don’t_.”

“I’m not gonna touch ya, Bug, but you need t’ c’mere.”

“What?”

“Slide over t’ me,” Simon gestured.

Reluctantly, Roach did as requested and made his way over to Simon, their elbows an inch or two apart.

“Lean in closer.”

He did, causing their forms to touch – ultimately leading to Roach wrapping his arms around Simon’s torso. Gary was shaking, his entire body jittering and only once he’d wrapped himself around Riley did the Brit bring him into an embrace, ensuring Roach was the one to carry the contact out. “I’ve got ya,” he promised. “I’ve got ya.”

* * *

“I _know_ you had it under control. But I couldn’t – I had t’ do something. Wanted t’ snap his fuckin’ arm in half, Bug… Noticed him bein’ a twat right from the get-go but when he fucking… put his hands on you I lost my shit,” Simon explained. They’d been sat talking against his car for at least half an hour by this point.

“I can’t deal with worrying about whether you’re gonna _kill_ somebody any time they put their hands on me, Simon.”

“Wanna keep you _safe_ , Roach…”

“You having _self-control_ makes me feel safe. Being the bigger man and solving the problem.”

“Don’t think I can do that.”

“Then I don’t know… if this is going to work.”

Simon turned his head, fingers resting on his thigh flexing to work away extra energy. “What?”

“This… _between us_ , Simon.”

“And what exactly _is_ between us, Roach?”

“I don’t know,” Roach confessed. “Every time I _think_ I do, you make me reassess everything.”

“Well I’m sorry I’m makin’ it so _difficult_ f’ you.”

Gary cleared his throat and ran a hand down his face. “You know what? I think we should head back inside. This is clearly not going anywhere.” He pressed his palms to the ground and pushed himself to his feet with a grunt while trying to keep from knocking a dent in his own car.

“ _Roach_ ,” Simon called, hoping to get the others attention but when he started to move away, he hauled himself to his feet and pursued – cautiously placing not a hand but the tip of his index finger on Gary’s shoulder to regain his attention. “ _Bug_.”

“ _What_ , Simon?”

“Can you – wait there?”

“Why?”

“Just give me a second, yeh?” Simon pleaded, hands raised to signal for Roach to wait as he made his way over to his bike and unlocked one of the boxes on it. He pulled out a small bag, checked the contents and then locked the box before bringing the bag over to Gary, offering it to him. “Had these lying around my place… I can always get more. Been waiting for the right time t’… give ‘em to ya.”

Roach eyed the bag for a moment and then collected it from the other’s hold. He peered inside, brows raised in surprise. “Bandages?”

“F’ your back… Save you goin’ out t’ buy ‘em.”

“Simon…”

“They’re no flowers or chocolate but…”

Gary found himself smiling. No matter how frustrated Simon made him, there was always a silver-lining. “You charming bastard.”

“I want you around, Roach.” Simon seemed to be heavily deliberating his words. “Around _me_. Never really _needed_ anyone, before.”

“What’s your point, Simon?” Roach pressed.

Riley bit his lower lip and closed the distance, towering over the other. His hands remained at his sides, cautious not to cross any lines after what’d just happened to Roach. “I can’t get you outta my _head_ , Bug. Doesn’t matter _what_ I do, can’t stop fuckin’ _thinkin’_ about you. Point is… I don’t wanna _lose_ you.”

“Then you’re going entirely the wrong way about it.”

“I _know_ ,” Simon agreed. “I know, I know I am but I – _fuck_ , Bug.”

“There’s nothing to be _scared_ of, Simon. You’re saying you can’t give me what I want but you’re thinking about… years, maybe even decades away. All I want right now is your _company_. The _only_ reason you might _lose_ me is by _pushing me away_.”

“Stay with me t’night.”

The request was unexpected and Roach had to take a step back to clear his head, intoxicated by Simon’s dominating presence. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I lost everything _good_ , Roach. When shit was _finally_ looking brighter it was fucking ripped away. I don’t _expect_ you t’ understand that, but all this time later you’ve come along ‘n’… you’re _good_ f’ me, Bug. You’re so _good_ f’ me and I – I don’t know what t’ _do_ with that. If something _happened_ t’ you… I _won’t_ lose anything else.”

“You’re not gonna _lose_ me, Simon.”

“You can’t promise that,” Riley shook his head.

“You’re right. I _can’t_. So you can either live your life in fear or go against it. But I _can’t_ help you do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simon's really at war with himself and it hurts me. But also Roach standing up for himself? Good food.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE NSFW WARNING. okay so this is the final chapter, I hope things work out how you wanted them to!

**02:09**.

Roach stared at the clock on his bedside table. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t get his mind to stop. The day’s events played on a loop, over and over – taunting him. His stomach wailed, having not eaten a meal before bed. He thought about his words to Simon, wondered whether the reality of them had been too harsh, whether he’d doomed himself to loneliness. Maybe Simon would decide Gary wasn’t worth the time or energy. Maybe they wouldn’t talk again.

He thought about how Simon had effectively acted quicker than even he had, during the assault. He’d clearly been observing – hence him questioning Roach whether the guy was causing him a problem. Had he been watching the entire time? There was something about that, the idea of Simon intensely watching him as he worked, which made him feel… safe. Excited, even. The fact that he had the other’s attention like that. With great power came great responsibility, and that was exactly how Roach felt about it – the sheer power of Simon’s apparent need to protect Gary was dangerous. It'd already been proven, one man missing numerous teeth a stand alone example.

_Stay with me tonight_. He wondered whether he’d have slept better, had he agreed to Simon’s plea.

Gary rolled onto his back and exhaled heavily, reaching for his phone. He blinked at the bright screen, thumb locating his messages and tapping on Ghost’s name. Absentmindedly, he opened the reply bar and started typing.

~~[ Hey, Simon. Are you –~~

He sighed and deleted the message, trying again.

~~[ I keep thinking about you, too. ]~~

“ _Stupid_ ,” he grumbled. It didn’t matter how badly Simon wanted him around. Didn’t matter that, in an idealistic world, they’d compliment each other as a couple. Didn’t matter how much Gary longed for them to get along, for Simon to let him in and not be so quick to shut himself away. He understood it, respected the man needed time but he also refused to put himself through endless heartache. The thought of Simon rejecting him over and over again – a miserable work life not knowing whether the other would be adoring him or hating him when he showed up each day. If only Simon could promise him… To give some sort of proof that Roach’s patience would be rewarded. In the sense that his heart wouldn’t be left in a pulp after every enjoyable event spent with the man. That he wouldn’t put himself through the torment of losing and gaining Simon over and over merely to lose him in the _very_ end.

A knocking sound echoed throughout the apartment. Roach’s brows furrowed and he tensed under his covers, listening intently. _There it was again_. “What?” He asked himself, confused. Sliding out of his bed in thin, grey lounge pants and a khaki t-shirt, Gary silently crept his way into the hall. It was a cooler evening, the air finding its way up past the material fitted to his ankle – making him quietly curse.

**_Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock!_ **

A series of louder knocks, this time; his gaze fell on the front door. “It’s _two am_ ,” he told himself. Who the hell would be knocking on his door at 2am? Was he losing his mind? What if it was someone looking for trouble? He’d never experienced this before, and one of the primary things you learnt growing up was to never answer the door after dark. Adrenaline started to course through him, shoulders squaring and fingers flexing.

**_Knock, knock, knock!_ **

Nevertheless, Gary neared the door, thankfully hidden by its total lack of transparency. He glanced around for something that had weapon potential, the nearest thing being an umbrella. _A fucking umbrella_ , he mocked himself. _What are you going to do with that, Gary? Keep them distracted with a Mary Bloody Poppins impression?_

Conjuring up enough courage, he tilted his head to peer through the eye hole and his breath caught at who he saw waiting on the other side. The door was unlocked and opened, a frown etched on Gary’s face.

“Were you asleep?” Simon inquired, remorse thick in his tone.

“No,” Roach admitted, barely managing to speak due to the shock of seeing the other. “Couldn’t…” He trailed off, hands nervously rubbing at the sides of his thighs. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

Was this a terrible idea? Should he shut the door in his face and be done with it? “Yeah.” Gary stepped aside, allowing Simon to enter. He closed the door and placed the double lock across before turning to face his company.

“You were right,” Simon breathed.

“About what?”

“About staying afraid or fighting it.”

Roach arched a brow. “What – uh – what do you mean?”

“I can’t stop thinkin’ about you, Bug… I know I come with a whole tonne of _shit_ on my back but – I wanna be _with_ you. I feel so… shit without you around. Fucking sat in my bed and _all_ I can think about is how much better I’d feel if _you_ were in it with me. How good I could make _you_ feel. How I _wanna_ make you feel.”

“Simon…” Gary croaked, lips parting and then sealing as he tried to decide how to respond. “I – I feel a similar way.”

Simon stepped closer, automatically bringing a palm to the side of Roach’s face, caressing him there. “Yeah?”

“I just can’t let myself… get close t’ you if one day you decide – I don’t know, that we don’t work or… or something.”

“That won’t happen,” Simon reassured softly.

“It’s like you said – that’s not something that can be _promised_. And – and I’m a patient guy, Simon. I mean I would… wait for _however long was needed_ if it meant… if it meant I could _be_ with you. But I can’t wait that long just for you to shut me out.”

Simon exhaled heavily. “Before you came along, I was,” he paused, meeting Roach’s gaze, “self-destructin’, I guess. Never been good at the whole… _civilian life_ charade. Come home hopin’ for another assignment straight off the bat, ‘cause nothing replaces the things I’ve seen so it flows better when there isn’t a break between ‘em, if that even makes sense t’ you,” he shrugged. “Then you fuckin’ show up…”

Roach frowned, listening intently to each word. It was rare for Riley to talk like this.

“Point is, at _least_ self-destruction is a _straight forward_ plan. Then, before I knew it, you were sharin’ cigarettes ‘n’ lunchtimes with me… Doin’ your bloody best t’ spend time with me and – well, I enjoyed it. Fuck, Roach, I started t’ look forward to it. Any day you went without sayin’ some… snarky thing back t’ me or kept t’ yourself I didn’t…” He paused again, as though debating whether he was saying too much.

“Keep going,” Gary encouraged him, voice hushed. He understood it must’ve been tremendously difficult for Simon to discuss what he was, but it needed to be said. Gary _needed_ to know.

Riley felt his hands beginning to tremble at the intensity swelling in his chest. “I couldn’t _approach_ you. Couldn’t find it in myself to ask if somethin’ was wrong or… Had t’ just get on with my day and then go home disappointed. _Soap_ doesn’t even fucking know – or at least I haven’t told ‘im.”

“Told him what?”

“How I _feel_ about you, Roach. ‘s just been stuck inside my head and it feels so fucking good t’ get it _out_.”

Gary blinked. “And now that it’s out, do you feel any differently?”

“ _No_. In fact, I wanna tell you over ‘n’ over, Bug. Y’ know, I’m never gonna change. Never gonna be cured’a this bullshit but… if I could wake up next t’ you every morning I –” Simon stopped himself, trying to read what Sanderson was thinking. “ _Please_ …” He whispered. “Give me a chance t’ make things right. I want you in my life, ‘n’ I understand that now.”

“We can be in each other’s lives, Simon, even as _friends_.”

Simon tensed. “ ** _No, no, no_** ,” he uttered. “Not friends, Roach, I wanna be _with_ you.” The Lieutenant brought his lips to Gary’s temple, his voice lowering. “ _Wanna be with you_.”

At the contact, Roach redirected him and placed his hands on Simon’s jaw, bringing their lips together. As the other started to reciprocate, Gary parted the kiss. “ _Prove_ it.”

Riley leaned back a few inches to meet his eyes, breathless. “Prove it?”

As a hint, Gary placed his hands on Riley’s hips and brought his own forward, rolling to create friction which Simon gave a guttural groan at. “Stop _saying_ how badly you want to be with me and _show_ me. _Convince me_.”

“ _Bug_ …” Simon said softly, overwhelmed by Roach’s forwardness. He’d been significantly passive, until now. Their lips met a second time as Simon took control, carefully walking Roach back towards the back of the sofa. This time, he remembered the other’s injury and helped him up to keep his back from making contact with anything. “Take your shirt off…” He muttered against his partner’s lips.

Roach let out a gentle moan at Simon’s husky tone and removed his t-shirt as efficiently as he could. Immediately, Riley’s hands began to roam, admiring every dip and curve, his lips relocating to Roach’s neck where he kissed, sucked and licked across the stretch of flesh, rumbling his appreciation against it. He was clumsy, clumsier than Roach recalled him being during their last make-out session though he put it down to adrenaline. Simon was fighting to keep Gary around and that told him everything he needed to know.

“ _Baby_ ,” Roach whimpered, wrapping his legs around the other’s waist, _encouraging_ with his own hands – one slipping beneath the back of Simon’s waistband to clutch the globe of his arse. “ _Make me feel good_.”

“‘s _all_ I wanna do…” Simon hummed, working his way down Roach’s chest and stopping to pay his nipples some attention. Roach tilted his head back, biting down on his lip to suppress a whine. It was cathartic, total bliss – something he’d been needing from Simon specifically for some time and by the looks of it, the other felt the same way. “ _Bedroom_ ,” he said, hooking his hands beneath Roach’s thighs in order to carry him down the hall.

The bedroom door was nudged shut upon entry and Simon brought Roach over to the side of the bed where he reluctantly released him. “ _Your back_ ,” he croaked. “How d’ you wanna do this?”

There was little time to think, to process the situation, Roach’s mind was buzzing and he didn’t want to stop now. Without wasting time, he crawled his way onto the bed, rested on his front and lifted his covered arse into the air. One of Simon’s bandages could be seen covering his wound. “Like this.”

Riley took a second to memorize Roach in that position before stripping off his own t-shirt. His bottoms were also thrown aside, leaving him in his boxers which he grasped his length through; muttering quietly at the pleasure gained from it. “Not yet,” he said. “Wanna _see_ you…”

Gary glanced at him over his shoulder and licked his lips at the sight. He managed to shift onto his side and propped himself up with his elbow. “ _You first_.”

“Fuck,” Simon grunted, overwhelmingly turned on my Roach’s more assertive tone. However, he obeyed eagerly, slipping his thumbs under his waistband and then slid the material down his legs, revealing his solid member.

“Holy shit,” Roach purred, grinning lazily at the sound that left Simon. “Look at you, Baby.”

“C’mere…” Simon growled, taking a hold of himself to initiate the first few strokes. Gary rose from his place on the bed and stood, closing the distance between their forms. Simon reached out with a spare hand and clutched Roach’s length through his bottoms, drawing out a lengthy groan. In return, Roach grasped at Simon’s heat and his thumb ran a teasing stroke over the slit. “Ah – been thinkin’ about this…”

Slowly, Roach lowered himself to his knees, maintaining eye contact – not that Simon was at all looking like his attention would shift. “About me?”

“ _Only about you_ ,” Simon stuttered, holding his breath as Roach ran his tongue down the veiny underside. “ _Shit_ , Babe.”

He took the length into his mouth, tongue circling his length’s head. One hand caressed Simon’s thighs, the other cupping him underneath, sending waves of pleasure through his partner and Simon desperately tried to remain still and silent, yearning to hear every sound and feel every touch down to the _finest_ detail. Roach shifted back, freeing his mouth. “ _Breathe_ , Simon.”

“Don’t wanna miss anything…” Riley admitted, reaching out to gently grasp at Roach’s hair to keep himself steady.

“You’re not going to,” Gary smiled.

Roach lowered a hand down under his own bottoms and held himself, hand stroking back and forth. Simon was torn between watching Gary get _himself_ off and _getting_ him off, opting for the latter as he reached down to bring the shorter to his feet. Hands hooked under Roach’s waistband and tugged down his lounge pants and boxers at the same time, a deep rumble leaving Simon as Gary’s length sprang free – his palm instantly wrapping around it. “ _I’m supposed t’ be convincing you_.”

“Shit!” Roach gasped at the sudden contact, lips parted as his breathing shallowed. “ _Simon_ …”

Riley’s arm was placed around the other’s form, bringing him into an embrace, Roach’s face pressed to Simon’s chest as he continued to pump his fist. “ _Love it_ when you say my name…” Simon drawled.

Gary’s hand curved around Simon’s neck and drew him down into a deep kiss, tongues fighting for dominance – with Gary losing because Simon stroked him in a way that prompted him to cry out, mouth parting in submission. It felt right, to be this close. To be held by the other in this way.

The two came up for air and Simon nodded towards the bed, a free hand squeezing his partner’s arse. “On your _front_ for me…”

“Yes _sir_ ,” Roach murmured, giving a teasing brush against Simon’s heat before finding the position he’d previously had on the bed.

“Touch yourself, Roach.”

Gary gave a low hum and reached between his legs, meeting Simon’s gaze as he rocked into his grasp. He moaned, calling out to Simon who was stroking _himself_ at the sight. “You said you’ve been thinking about me…”

“I did.”

“What sort of things?” Roach asked innocently.

“Sure you can imagine, Bug.”

“Indulge me.”

Simon paused, grunting as he worked his length, debating whether to expose himself in such a way. Should he give Gary the details regarding the times he’d touched himself, _thinking about him?_ What if the other thought he was wrong to do so?

“Hey,” Roach reminded, drawing him from his thoughts. “I won’t judge if that’s what you’re thinking about.”

He took a deep breath. “You remember that photo you sent me?”

Sanderson grinned, biting at his lip when his hand rubbed against a sensitive nerve. “Oh _fuck_.”

“You make me feel _some kinda way_ , Roach. Who was I t’ deny myself of _that_?”

“You know…” Gary began. “I might’ve thought of you a few times, too.”

That snatched Simon’s attention back tenfold. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself any longer, placing a knee on the bed behind Roach so he could grasp at the other’s arse and spread it, forcing a groan from him. “ _So_ fucking gorgeous.” A finger strayed, lingering at Roach’s entrance – teasing. “Tell me,” he pleaded. “Tell me, _tell me_.”

Roach keened at the touch, the note leaving him continuing on for a few seconds as he anticipated it going further but when Simon stilled he crackled into inhaling a sharp breath. “I never agreed to _teasing_.” To counteract Gary deflecting, Simon ran his tongue beside his partner’s entrance, prompting the younger to jerk and gasp. “ _Holy shit_ , Simon!”

“ _Tell me_.”

“Okay! Okay, fine…” He sighed shakily, startled. “Fuck, okay, it – well, it was actually similar to _this_. I uh – it was a dream. You know, like a wet dream. Well, it was a wet dream but –”

Simon interrupted his rambling. “You dreamt about me?”

“I –” Gary gulped. “I suppose I did.” A kiss was placed at the base of his spine before Simon rested his chin there.

“When?”

“Uh –”

“When did you _have_ it?”

It was encroaching on embarrassing territory now. “If I tell you, you’re not allowed to –”

“Judge you?” Simon finished his sentence. “ _Never_.”

“Alright. It was before you showed me around Hereford. _That_ morning, actually…” Behind him, Simon fell silent. Roach could only feel the weight of his balanced head and his chest pressing against his arse. “Simon?”

Another kiss was placed, followed by another and then a third until a trail of kisses led Riley up Gary’s spine and next to his ear – his form hovering above him. “Wish you’d told me when I picked you up. That day could’ve gone very differently, you know.”

Roach scoffed, trying to fight the pleasure the other’s lips were bringing him. “ _As if!_ I was mortified.”

“Why?”

“Because… I don’t know, I wasn’t sure whether you liked me or not – in _that_ way, I mean. Plus I almost never do this.”

“Do what?”

“This. And not because I don’t get offers but… it’s not something I –”

“You don’t need to explain if you don’t want to,” Simon reassured him.

“It’s not that, Simon, I’m trying to say that I – haven’t _wanted_ to have _this_ in a long time. When I do, it means more than… finding you attractive or whatever. That dream… pretty much _told_ me that we _have_ something here.”

“You don’t need t’ tell _me_.”

Roach groaned, pressing himself back against Simon’s length. “ _You’re_ not the one needing to be told.”

“Oh.” The Lieutenant hummed, withdrawing himself back to his previous position behind his partner. A hand tucked itself between Gary’s legs, replacing the hand there which had since stopped moving.

Sanderson shuddered, peering over his shoulder to make sure his words weren’t having a negative effect. Surprised, he guessed otherwise when Riley ran his teeth over the curve of Gary’s right cheek, teasing him with more kisses there.

“Then _let_ me make it clear as day t’ you, _Bug_.”

“ _Please_ , Simon.”

“ _Where’s your lube?_ ”

Roach had to think about that one. It was rare he ended up needing it, not often one to touch himself to the thought of those he wasn’t _emotionally_ involved with. “Fuck it’s – uh – top drawer in the corner, I think.” He felt Simon’s weight lift from the mattress and waited patiently, listening as the other searched through various items. It would likely be a full bottle, due to using it so little. He assumed Simon had located it, as he closed the drawer and made his way back onto the bed. There was a quiet click, and then something cold dripped down his right thigh, causing him to jolt involuntarily. “Fuck,” Roach hissed. “You could’ve _warned_ me.”

Simon chuckled, the reapplied pressure of his chest making the sound travel through Gary. “Like t’ keep you on your toes.”

“Trust me, I’m already _on_ my –” Roach was interrupted by his own gasp and nearly collapsed at the sensation of one of Simon’s fingers slipping into him. “ _Simon!_ ” He could feel Simon drag his tongue up his lower back, keeping its distance from his bandage, and he shuddered; his arms giving way beneath him.

“You sound so fucking _pretty_ ,” Simon grunted, slipping in a second finger.

Roach rocked his hips, attempting to speed Simon’s painfully slow movements up. Gradually, he did grow faster, though eventually the sensation disappeared entirely when Simon removed his fingers. “Need you _inside_ me, Baby,” Gary pleaded, shaking his arse from side to side which earned him the tip of Simon’s length ghosting over his entrance.

“You want this?”

“I do, I _fucking_ do. Want _you_ , Simon.”

The head was pressed nearer and Roach cooed with nervous excitement but as a few inches sank in, Simon removed himself and Roach moaned. He didn’t complain though, hopeful his patience would pay off. He was teased a few more times, another couple of inches slipping into him this time before he pulled out again. Then, with more icy lube slicking him, Simon buried himself in the heat, driving forwards carefully until he couldn’t go any further.

“Shit!” Gary jerked, a spark of pain biting at him. “Don’t move for a second, holy fucking –”

Simon leaned over his form, an arm reaching around his torso, mouth positioned beside Roach’s left ear. “ _Tell me when_ ,” he said breathlessly.

Gary waited, attempting to shift to judge whether he’d adjusted to Simon’s girth yet. Comfortable, he nodded with a soft whimper. “ _Please_.” The arm surrounding him coaxed him upwards, leading his body to be arched upright and flush against Simon’s torso.

Riley’s hips started to roll, testing the waters first, before he started to pick up a rhythm – breathing heavy, hot air against the side of Roach’s face. Gary hadn’t experienced anything like this, the feelings Simon awoke within him, mentally and physically, he was certain couldn’t be replicated. Riley’s hand found its way to rest on Roach’s sternum, securing him in place as his thrusts became harder and more passionate. Gary managed to turn his head, allowing Simon to catch him with a sloppy kiss. His free hand made a point of sliding down Sanderson’s chest, stopping at his hardened member which he grasped, savouring Gary moaning into his mouth as he teased him.

His strokes had expert rhythm, hand rolling down as his hips forced Gary’s forwards. When Simon could spare the energy, he would whisper compliments and praise into his partner’s ear, ensuring Roach was captivated throughout the entire experience though he could only ever moan in response.

Simon released the other and pressed him down into the mattress, gripping at his hips while exerting his energy with some powerful thrusts – deciding to keep them going as long as he could when they tore delightful cries from Roach who tried to bury his face in his bedding to muffle the sounds. His stamina ended up depleting, prompting his hips to slow as he leaned over Roach again to pepper kisses across his back. “Stand up,” he requested tiredly, pulling himself out in order to reposition. Taking a few moments to collect himself, Gary shifted off of the bed and tried to stand but his knees buckled beneath him and he stumbled into Simon’s hold. “You okay?”

“ _Yeah_ …” Roach wheezed giddily. “You’re just… fucking amazing.”

Riley gave a hearty laugh that Gary found himself grinning at. He loved the sound of Simon’s laughter. “Sit here, Babe.” He led him to stand opposite his knees before coaxing Gary to position himself over Simon’s legs, which he managed. Simon then helped lower the other down until he was seated on his erection. “Fuck, just like that…” He was able to see Roach’s face, now, in its full glory – lips parted and eyes working to stay open as he whined beautiful notes after every other tilt of his hips. Mesmerized, he watched as Gary bounced himself on Simon’s member, sweat beading on his forehead and eyes utterly flooded with lust. “Roach…” He called fondly, right palm drifting up his partner’s torso. He placed it carefully against the other’s throat, admiring his finely cut jawline and the stubble that scratched at his flesh.

Roach reached up and grasped the raised arm by the wrist, drawing his hand further up so that he could press feather-like kisses to the callous skin there. The contact prompted a shaky inhale from Simon, and because he’d not been able to do much teasing of his own yet, while continuing to meet Riley’s thrusts, he dragged his tongue along the bare palm.

“So fucking close,” Simon warned, fighting the urge for his eyes to roll into his head. “ _Shit!_ ”

“Noticed you have a thing for my tongue,” Roach accused with a smirk that faltered when Simon’s length nudged something blissful inside him.

“What?”

“I _know_ you didn’t buy me that ice-cream because of the _taste_.”

“It was a warm day,” Simon argued.

Roach slowed to a stop, keeping the head of Riley’s length captive. His wrist was also still in his hold.

“ _Hey_.”

“ _Admit it_.”

“ _Gary_.”

“Hm?” Roach tilted his head.

“Look, I have a fucking thing for every _part_ of you, alright?”

“So it won’t bother you if I do this?” Gary placed the tip of one of Simon’s fingers on his lip, allowing his tongue to wrap around it and tickle the skin.

Simon became silent, unmoving – save for a few attempts to shift his hips. After a few licks, he gave a growl and tugged his hand free, wrapping both arms around Roach’s back to pull him down into a deep kiss. “Gonna make you pay f’ that,” he said, muffled.

“Oh yeah?”

“ _Yeah_.” Simon used his strength to stand up and _lift_ Gary, encouraging him to wrap his legs around his waist. Careful of his injury, Riley began rolling his hips and the angle Roach was seated in had him incoherently crying out into Simon’s shoulder. “ _Fuck!_ ”

“You nearly there, Baby?” Gary whimpered.

The Lieutenant nodded, thrusts growing faster.

Roach readjusted himself and made space between their abdomens. He grasped for Simon’s hand which he guided to his needy member but Simon couldn’t hold the weight with one hand, forcing him to place Roach back on his feet. Before he could recover, however, he was turned around and forced face down onto the bed. Simon pressed back into the heat and picked his pace back up, practically snarling as his thrusts started to lose their rhythm. Quickly, he reached down and gripped Roach’s length which was almost trapped between his stomach and the mattress. Between reaching his orgasm and stroking Roach, he lost himself.

Gary yelped into the bed covers, grasping tightly at the material as his feet worked to keep his knees from meeting the floor in the strange position. Simon’s current technique was fast and powerful, his breathing sharp and quick and stamina at an all-time high, which Roach took as a hint that the other was almost at his peak and therefore reached out to make Simon slow to a halt. He groaned as Riley reluctantly slid from him, but kept distracted by turning to face him. He shifted back so that he could kneel on the mattress and encouraged Simon to join him.

Gary brought him into a kiss and placed Simon’s hand back on his length while clutching his own around Simon’s and the two remained there, kneeling and pressed together as they brought each other to the edge.

Their kiss parted with every groan, riding out their orgasms until they had no energy left. They remained there for a few moments, panting into each other’s faces as they pressed their foreheads together until Simon gently nudged for Roach to lean back against his bed and then lingered above him, weakened arms working to keep him in place. Searching Roach’s face, he breathlessly asked, “Did I manage to _convince_ you?”

Roach laughed tiredly, a fond smile growing on his face as a hand rose to stroke Simon’s jaw. “ _I love you, Simon_.”

The words came as an utter shock to Riley, his eyes widening and brows raising. They played on a loop in his mind, an impossible sentence made wholly possible seconds ago. _I love you, Simon_. His breath caught and he made a quiet, surprised, choking noise; a brisk grin appearing and then disappearing, before _reappearing for good_. He lowered himself to press a kiss to the corner of Roach’s lips, then whispered, “ _I love you too, Bug_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had so much fun writing this fic and it's the second one I've genuinely finished which I'm super proud of. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As for future things regarding this universe, I will eventually create a third fic ( with the same title as this but part 3 likely so keep an eye out for that ) which will primarily be one shots of both Ghost x Roach and some Soap x Price if I'm feeling up to it. There's still TONNES to explore in this universe and with the relationships and hopefully I'll find one shots easier to achieve than a 100 page fic :D for now, thanks so much for reading and leaving such amazing feedback. It's really brought back a huge amount of confidence regarding my writing abilities and that means a tonne!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! feel free to leave feedback, it's always mega helpful.


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